Arman’s fingers twitched incessantly - opening and closing, threading, pinching. He leaned against the cool stone of the house, and stared at the sky with the hatred of a thousand lifetimes. 

Samir stepped out next to him, flame  flickering dimly as he lit up a cigarette. “Light?” He offered. 

“Trying to quit. Smoking is an unsustainable habit during the apocalypse.” 

“Fair enough,” Samir shrugged, the crimson of the embers catching against the slate gray of his gaze. He blew out a mouthful of smoke, and it dissipated into the cold night. Above, the sharded tear of the sky was only distinguishable by the lack of stars. But through the thick cloud cover, they could almost pretend everything was normal. A long, careless exhale, cigarette dangling by his side, and then, flicking ashes to the concrete, his lips curled into a tiny smile. “You settle things?” 

“With the client? Yeah. Who do you take me for?” 

“Knew you would,” Samir grunted. 

“You’ve given me a fucking weird role to play, boss. S’all I’m saying.” 

“I need her to trust me. Trust us.” 

Arman slid his hands into his coat pockets and hummed. “Well. I suppose it’s not too hard to pretend. Though I don’t agree that it’s strictly necessary.” 

“If we offered to support her from the start - gave her unconditional support - don’t you think she would have been more suspicious? Even now, she doesn’t know what to do with me.” Samir took one more drag and dropped the cigarette, stomping on it firmly. “I can see it in her eyes. No. It needs to be gradual.” 

A snort from Arman - one of disbelief. “Yeah. This will be fun to explain someday. I’ll leave that part of the plan to you.” 

“You worry about your part and I’ll worry about mine.” 

“Wasn’t that the original premise of your agreement with Eve?” Arman pushed off the wall, shaking his head disapprovingly. “I suppose I can’t complain. I should be grateful enough that you regained some of your memories.” 

“Must have been frustrating for you, huh?” Samir ran a finger along the wall of the house as he turned to face the man. Beneath his touch, the building crumbled, carving a deep crevice into the rock. 

The door swung open. 

Kernels of sand danced amongst their feet, the only evidence of what he’d done, and Eve slipped outside. She seemed calmer now, more steady, her flaming hair neatly braided and hanging over a heavy black backpack. Catching sight of Arman, a soft scowl laced her mouth, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared, replaced with cruel disinterest. 

“Still not here?” 

“He’s late,” Samir replied, glossy leather shoes hiding the flattened remnants of his cigarette. No doubt she could still smell it. 

“And that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” Her skin was damp from a shower, still blooming with rosy blood just beneath the surface, curls of wet baby hairs stuck to her neck and brushed back from her temples. “But if this meeting is as important as he’s made it out to be, he’ll be here soon.” 

“Do you even know who we’re supposed to meet?”

“No.” Chewing at her bottom lip and ignoring Samir’s prying glance, Eve scanned the misty road. Han was always late. It was a bit of a relief that this aspect of their relationship, at least, had not changed. 

She heard him before she saw him. The sound of a horn, long and low, followed by wheels, skidding down the asphalt. Then, from the curtain of white, the yellow glare of headlights, twisting up the mountain road at a pace that was entirely unsafe.  

Still honking loudly, the car rolled to a stop in front of their driveway, not even bothering to move off the main road. The smell of the ocean faded under the cloying stickiness of charred rubber. 

The thing was an antique. Painted a bright pink, Eve had to wonder if it wouldn’t attract more attention than it would deflect. 

Han got out of the car and looked at it proudly. “Like it?” 

Eve stole a sideways glance. Arman was staring at the hunk of metal with utter disdain.   

“Well, it’s certainly an upgrade from the horse-drawn carriage. But not by much if you were trying to fly under the radar.” 

“It’s a good car,” Han sniffed, looking put out. His ‘head’ of smoke flashed the same color as the rosy paint, probably on purpose. Eve suppressed a tiny smile as she slid into the front seat, chucking her backpack down by her feet. 

“Come on. Let’s move.” Samir nudged Arman forward when the other man stared hesitantly at the headless creature, then at the car. Surely though, the other man had seen stranger things in the past several days. 

The car was bigger on the inside. A little picture, in a frame, stood balanced on the dashboard, and Han gave it a loving stroke before he kicked the car into ignition. Eve fought the urge to turn the portrait face down, feeling the engine rumble to life beneath her. Samir leaned forward from the back seat, bracing one arm on her headrest while they peeled back out onto the road, gathering speed rapidly.  

“Is that?” 

“It’s not Dorian.” Eve whispered, knowing what Samir was seeing.

“Noted. Not the guy that tried to burn us to cinders. Then-?”

“His twin sister,” she answered, shifting her body to look, instead, out the window at the passing scenery. The leather, supple and soft, made no noise at her squirming. “Han’s master.” 

“Can’t even say her name anymore?” Han said, and it was laced with sudden venom. 

Eve exhaled, low and even. “Can you blame me?” 

“Not really,” Han’s tone turned light. “If I was you, I would have given up on my life long ago. The guilt would have eaten me alive.” An awkward silence followed, long, and ballooning with pressure. Han turned towards her, incredulous, hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Don’t tell me you’ve tried?” 

“Eyes on the road,” Eve whispered. 

“He doesn’t even have eyes,” Arman muttered. 

Eve was quiet at that. The asphalt passing quickly beneath them was familiar, numbing. The car headlights sliced through the fog, a swirling mirage of pale gray that suffocated the long night. Lightheaded, she closed her eyes and for a split second she felt as though her body was falling, flying - an icy chill rooting through her organs. Around her, the world felt very large. It would be inappropriate to let the ball of pressure building in her throat break into a sob, much less to curl up in a ball, the way she wished were possible. 

 She remembered the her from those days and swallowed through a swell of longing and disdain. 

Instead she cracked the window. Let the icy, damp air buffet her, slice against her with speed, until the physical sensation of it was all she could focus on. She could feel the bubble in her chest building, swelling, until it threatened to burst together with a scream. 

Eve closed the window. 

Samir had his eyes closed in the backseat, and Arman was staring, steadfast, out the window the same way she had been. A sharp right turn sent all their bodies flying sideways. The car careened off the road and onto a dirt path, gravel striking sharply off the metal rims. 

“Fucking hell,” Arman hissed, rubbing his head where it had slammed solidly against the window. Eve had reached for the handle to steady herself, and Samir had opened his eyes, but looked largely unbothered by their sudden detour. “Where are we even going?” 

“You’ll see,” Han said. If he was concerned about the state of the car, he didn’t show it. 

“You’re not allowed to tell us?” 

“Nope.” 

“Oh.” Arman shifted and stared, with sudden trepidation, into the distance. 

They drove deeper inland, the woods around them growing progressively thicker, until the car pulled up along a pond, its surface perfectly unmarred, a swampy, murky,  green. Overhead, the rising sun had bled pink across the sky enough that Eve could see the water was deep, dangerous. Eve turned to Han in her seat, fiddling idly with the gold threaded through her ears. 

“What now?”

“Now we go in.” 

“In?” 

“In.” 

“As in under the water?” Eve breathed. 

“Can’t we put this to a vote?” Arman’s hand was frozen on the door handle, and Eve felt inclined to agree. 

“Not unless you can break that car door faster than I take us in,” Han said cheerfully, and slammed his foot on the accelerator. The car lurched, throwing all of them back against their seats as it sped up. Arman’s head cracked against the window a second time, and the sounds of his cursing mixed with Eve’s screaming. 

Not the water. 

She didn’t like the water. 

The vehicle paid no heed to her sudden fear, and it only took a couple of seconds before the wheels could no longer touch the gravel pond bottom. Instead it pitched forward, nose down, and slowly, gurgling a little, began to sink. 

Han put the car in park. Eve reached for her backpack, looking for something, anything, other than Han’s sheer joy at their panic to keep the thing afloat. The thing was bulging with talismans, but she couldn’t possibly take her time reading through each and every one. Rifling across the first handful, Eve found a spell for explosion - she could set it off, under the car, launch them upwards - when a heavy, familiar hand brushed against the back of her neck. 

Even if the touch was familiar, the pressure and threat of it was totally foreign. Corrupted.

Threatening. 

Samir’s thumb rubbed along her vertebrae, just firm enough that it stung a little. Differently than he’d touched her just the day before. Clarity rushed through her mind in a sudden sharp contraction. For several long, thick seconds, Eve could focus only on the scrape of a nail along her skin. Goosebumps rippled down her spine. 

Had he always had this kind of tension hidden under the surface? This kind of sinister energy? 

She didn’t need to feel his emotions to sense that he was telling her to settle down. Eve’s head turned slowly, her eyes sliding more than the rest of her face, suddenly afraid for an entirely different reason. Arman flicked the light on inside the car, saying something, but it flew past her without recognition.

Now that the water had swallowed them entirely, Eve could see Samir’s reflection in her car window. Those steely eyes were flat, and his lips were turned down, face tight where she knew to search for the signs. 

He wasn’t even looking at her. 

A shudder slipped past her parted lips. 

Samir’s attention snapped to her, dark gaze flicking to meet hers in the distorted reflection. His touch fell away, and the corner of his lip lifted, amused as he leaned forward. The change in angle meant that Eve couldn’t see him anymore, but that didn’t matter, because his voice was right in her ear, coursing through her veins, a chastising purr. 

“How rash of you.” 

“Didn’t think I’d ever have to hear that from you.” 

“Hm,” Samir hummed, still smiling, but did not bother to explain himself. Eve wriggled around to face him. He was leaning against her seat in a position that looked entirely uncomfortable, chin propped onto the seat, cheek pressed against the headrest. But she was more familiar with this expression. The kind of cunning smirk he’d had plastered all over him when he’d first met. 

She grew somewhat calmer. 

The car was moving, shoved by some unseen power through the dark. Eve could vaguely tell that they were going deeper, towards the bottom of the lake, but past that, her sense of direction was more or less useless. Han was staring at her backpack suspiciously. 

“That’s how you’ve been getting along this entire time?” 

“It works,” Eve said shortly, bending to zip the bag shut once again. “As long as you don’t drown us all.” Han scoffed. 

“What do you take me for?” 

“I’m still not entirely sure you’re sane, much less reliable.” 

“He says he knows where we’re going,” Arman interjected, staring out the window - at nothing - with half-awed curiosity. Eve grimaced. 

“I would hope so.” 

“Well,” Samir said under his breath, so only Eve could hear him, “If he didn’t, he’d never leave this car ever again.” 

“Neither would we then,” she retorted, out loud, shooting Samir an ugly glare. Why would he antagonize the creature that, quite literally, held their life in the palm of his hands? 

“You’re all sissies,” Han muttered, rolling his eyes, and then, to Eve’s immense relief, the car began to rise. The ascent was slower - slower even than the descent, and it wobbled unevenly every few seconds, where Han’s power was insufficient. If the creature had a head, she was sure his face would be full of frustration. As it was, the smoke curling around his limbs growed an irritated crimson. 

They emerged, seaweed plastered to glass and water rushing from the windows. Daylight streamed across the leather seats, a soothing grassy shade. The car bobbed several times, swaying with a current, as though it were a boat and not an enormous hunk of metal. 

From between sopping green leaves, Eve could make out a soaring green cliffside. Dotting it was a honeycomb of hundreds of homes, and magic - magic so strong that for a moment it threatened to suffocate Eve with its presence and intensity. 

She rolled one window down, ignoring the splash of water across her lap. “How have you kept this hidden?” 

Han smiled, a bitter sort of expression. “Years of planning. But mostly-” he turned to her, gaze stony. “You should know well that the influence of the Elder Gods is weak in the human dimension. That they don’t bother looking for anything weak. So we pretended. We pretended for as long as we had to.” 

“And now?” 

“Well,” Han said huffily, as he rolled her window closed. “Now we have you.” 

“Just me?” 

A single puff of smoke spread from the creature’s neck. “Yes.” 

“And that’s enough?” 

Han nodded. Samir’s hand stroked her neck again, somehow, more meaningful. 

Eve fought not to feel suffocated.