I settled back into the cold seat as we drove through Roosevelt Road.

Buildings, trees, and people were all blending into a swirling blur. We weren't even going past the speed limit, but surely it felt like it. Maybe the world was catching up to us. Perhaps the time that got lost when Roy and I spoke in the hallway had to be repaid somehow, so now everything appeared to be moving at a higher speed.

I could also sense Hunter's unease, which didn't help me calm down at all. I'd never seen him tense up the way he did when he heard Roy's name coming out of my mouth, not even back at the party when he witnessed Sally getting pushed off the balcony.

It was a different kind of tense—more edgy and angry but keeping it together at the same time.

I didn't blame him, though. I was struggling not to have a breakdown myself, but my body worked against me. My pulse wouldn't slow down and my blood wouldn't stop buzzing through my head. And, if I did not focus hard enough, Hunter would have to clean fresh vomit from his windshield as soon as we got home.

Luckily for both of us, I managed to keep it inside until he pulled up in the already familiar driveway and I could settle down calmly.

I had only seen the house out-front. The closest I'd been to entering the house was the time she called Jared and me over so that she could give us some freshly baked cheesecake she made, but even then, she made Jared wait patiently at the doorstep, closing the door behind her and not letting us see anything past the dark oakwood door. It led Jared to believe she had weird scientific equipment provided by the government inside, or something horribly sinister like a pile of bodies lying around in her basement.

Regardless of his extravagant theories, everyone knew Mrs. Norton only cultivated 'Smile-at-each-other-while-taking-the-trash-out' kinds of relationships in the neighborhood. She gave court nods, people gave them back, and that was about it.

Now God only knew where she was—possibly in a grave—and I was walking onto what used to be her porch, knowing that the things I would find out about were things I wouldn't be able to take back once I knew them.

"Hey." Hunter's fingers gently curled around my arm for a moment when I stopped before the door. His eyes were gloomy, his voice thick when he asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

A string of words crept into my mind in that moment, and my limbs threatened to turn into jelly again. Finding a Keeper is rare.

I needed answers. I wouldn't be okay until I got them. "Let's just get inside," I said, looking around to make sure no one had followed us. The idea of Roy sneaking into the house made me shiver, and thank God Hunter got the hint. Stepping forward, he led us both inside.

And boy, I would have never imagined that old lady living in a place like this.

I expected a full-on Downton Abbey kind of look, but quite the opposite greeted me. The walls were either painted with a rich cream color or covered by granite stones, and the floors were made of polished cement.

Too modern for such an elderly woman.

To my left, where I guessed the living room was, a single black leather sectional sofa, a flat screen, and a coffee table with a half empty bottle of wine took most of the space. There was a chimney in the back of the room, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the walls on either side, but it looked like it had been out of use since they first built it into the house. They probably kept it as decoration.

I could glimpse a kitchen at the end of the hallway, marbled countertops that were fully equipped with every possible electronic—microwave, instant coffee machine, an air fryer, a small toaster, a grinder, a mixer, lines upon lines of polished utensils—and a steel fridge shining against the evening light. Not a single part of me could possibly picture Mrs. Norton spending her mornings in there.

Of course she'd probably taken her things with her...but still, the space itself irradiated youth. It didn't look like an eighty year old lady had been using that same kitchen to cook casseroles and slow-cooked stews a little less than three weeks ago. That was if she hadn't moved out earlier—or died. The uncertainty bugged me more than it should have.

I limited myself to follow Hunter up the stairs quietly, expecting to find at least one picture of him and Logan but finding a blank wall instead. I wanted to see what Hunter's parents actually looked like, so I was slightly disappointed at the lack of photographs or visual objects that somehow linked him to his childhood. It was a topic that intrigued me since we met.

His room was no different from the rest of the house. Creamy walls, shiny floor, and a dark wood closet to the right of the queen-sized bed. For the slightest of seconds, I pictured how soft it must've felt like to sleep under that blue comforter...right next to Hunter, but I forced myself to push that thought as far away possible. It wasn't quite the right moment for it.

"You really scared me back there." Hunter leaned against one of the walls with a heavy sigh, and my heart gave a small contraction.

Uncertain of the right answer, I said, "It would be nice to understand what's really happening, you know."

Hunter nodded and, with incredible lightness, walked over to his bed and sat on the edge, kicking his boots off in a matter of seconds.

For a moment, he simply stared at me, waiting for me to do something. But I was frozen in place. Being in the same bed as Jared was one thing, but even an innocent act like sitting on a bed next to Hunter was something else. I didn't trust myself around him.

A smirk tugged on the corners of his lips. "My bed won't bite you, Olivia." I didn't have any other options, and I felt my insides getting hotter as I slowly sat in front of him. I'd been right. It was extremely soft. "It is going to sound crazy. You know that, right?"

"I'll settle for crazy."

"All right...." Hunter jerked his chin, and, with a slow breath, he asked, "Have you ever heard of parallel universes? Dimensions that exist simultaneously as we sit here talking?"

"I'm not really a fan of Discovery Channel," I said, earning a smile from his part.

"It's also on National Geographic." He rested his back on the header of the bed. "A long time ago, this reality—our reality coexisted with its...other side. The occult side."

I raised my eyebrow. "You mean supernatural?"

"I think that word is a mouthful of stereotypes." He wasn't wrong. My mind was already busy recreating the image of the werewolf version of Hunter knocking on my door. "But yeah, this reality used to coexist with its supernatural alternate. Magic has always been a part of our world.

"And no, I don't mean pull a bunny out of a hat or split random girls into two like that Chris Angel guy. I mean a person who's born with a different sequence in their DNA. Magic is often mistaken for pixie dust...when in real life, it is simply the ability to use your brain and body in a more open and complex way than a regular human."

All right, perhaps the shirtless, sweaty, and furry version of Hunter had been a bit over-the-top, but at least I was invested in the story. "And what happened? What went wrong?"

"What always happens with humans," he said, sounding genuinely annoyed for a moment. "They started getting jealous. No one could understand why some were born with the ability to do extraordinary things while others had to live regular, human lives. And don't get me wrong, most were also angry because they felt like prey all the time."

My brows knitted closer. "I thought you said both sides coexisted."

He sat straight again. "Living with each other doesn't necessarily mean living under good terms."

"And what kind of abilities are we talking about?" I actually wanted to risk it and ask something like: What are you? But I held onto that questions for just a little bit longer.

"Anything you've ever read in a book," he said calmly. "But slightly different. For example, vampires aren't really vampires. We call them Vultures. They don't feed off blood, but memories instead. Werewolves are shape-shifters, then there's mermaids—who can walk, nothing remotely related to the ocean. Then you have—"

"Mermaids don't have tails?" I asked, not realizing how naïve that had sounded until he snorted softly.

"No. And we call them Temptresses. They charm people to feed from their energy. It's not too bad, though. Most of the time they simply find someone to get laid with and that works just fine."

"I see."

He studied me. "You seem disappointed."

"Ariel is my favorite princess. Of course I'm disappointed." I shrugged. "Anything else?"

"There's the ability to master fire," he said.

"Let me guess—a dragon?"

I secretly hoped he gave me a straight no, but instead, he grinned. "They used to call themselves Drakons. It comes from the Greek word, but they don't mind settling for dragon nowadays...."

I didn't say anything as he continued to speak. I wasn't even sure I wanted to keep hearing about it, much less believe in all of it just yet. My theory on perhaps being colorblind and eating the wrong food sounded way more comforting.

Hallucinations can happen to anyone. It didn't necessarily have to mean every creature written into a book was suddenly real...did it?

The tacos. It had to be the fucking tacos.

"Then again," he continued. "They are not literal dragons or fairies or vampires. They are people who have skills that resemble this stereotypical figures' abilities. The names are simply tags. To an extent, you can compare them to those creatures, but they are not entirely...supernatural."

"Part of them is human?" I shifted my body further into the bed so that I could sit with my legs crossed.

"Yes—kinda. Think of them like a better and way cooler version of a human. Which leads us back to why people wanted every single one of them gone. Dead. And for security measures, the Veil was created."

"The Veil?"

"Somewhere where they could lock the darkest entities, the ones that put humans' safety at risk. Those who weren't as harmful and swore not to come out of hiding were allowed to stay. Vultures, shape-shifters, they cannot be compared to some of the bad guys you'll find there, Olivia. If there is a Hell...that would be it."

"How did they...?"

"Do it?" he asked, and I nodded. "Wasn't easy. A lot of people died. Humans and those who belonged to the supernatural. Because of that, and to prevent it from happening again, the ones who stayed were forced to use glamour. A spell-like mask that keeps humans from seeing who they really are."

He stopped for a second, not breaking eye contact. "And then they made everyone forget about their existence, build a world where magic was a fantasy and not a reality. People never forgot entirely, though. Which is why there are books like Dracula or Twilight. And even Disney with The Little Mermaid. People think those things are simply a figment of their imagination. Little do they know they are the recollection of wiped-out memories."

A lump formed in my throat. "And what about you? What are you?"

Hunter took one full minute before answering, one minute of torture—agony. Maybe I wasn't ready to hear the answer to that question...but then why did I ask?

Before I could regret my words any longer, he gave a sigh and said, "I'm what they would call an Inferno."

My brows puckered in a frown. "A what?"

"An Inferno," Hunter repeated, sitting up from the bed and stretching his limbs. He walked to the window, eyes trained somewhere I couldn't see from where I sat. "I guess you could consider me some sort of guard dog...." He paused for a second. "Not that I'm a literal dog, but you get it."

I switched positions to get a better look at him. "And what is it that you guard, exactly?"

"The Veil." Hunter's eyes were a shade darker when he turned around, but I didn't feel threatened. It was more of a sympathetic sensation that settled in the pit of my stomach. He looked embarrassed.

"So you make sure nothing gets out?"

"Actually...I'm supposed to do quite the opposite."

His words took a moment to sink in. I let my legs fall back over the edge of the bed. "You want to free them?"

"I said I was supposed to, not that I wanted to do it." He walked back to the bed and sat next to me. One of his legs folded under the other so that he could face me. "Infernos, you can say are born from the dark, born to seek revenge and take down the Veil so that our ancestors can walk free again. We are kinda like an army sort of thing."

"And is Roy your brother?" I asked, but he looked extremely confused. "The other night...in the balcony—"

"No, nothing like that." He shook his head. "I mean, you could say we are like brothers, but what bonds us is our nature, not our blood. Not that I share much of that with him either way anymore. I changed my mind a while ago, which is why he's after me." He took a deep, heavy breath, shoulders slouching. "Which is why bad people in general are after me, Olivia."

"But what nature are you talking about? What did you do?"

"I escaped a life I didn't want," he said.

I stretched my legs and walked up to the window. From here, there was a clear view of the inside of my room. I couldn't help but wonder if he had ever seen me pacing around. Even worse, what if he'd caught me walking around after taking a shower? My bath robe was getting incredibly small now and he could have easily seen....

I shook the thought away before it got too far and paranoid.

"That makes you brave," I finally said, but my voice had lowered considerably. "It doesn't make you a fugitive. It doesn't make you bad."

"They don't see it that way." Hunter was soon by my side, his eyes risking short glances at me every so often. "You see, my job, an Inferno's job, is to destroy the wall that separates the Veil from this reality. We're supposed to be coldhearted and merciless, because our job is to kill everyone who stands in our way. I didn't want to live like that...but then again, we are the only ones who can travel through the Veil."

"Which is why they need you...?"

"They don't need me, per se, but the fewer we are, the less chances the Veil will ever be destroyed. That doesn't work for them. And when I refused to live my life trying to kill innocent people, they weren't really happy about it."

I leaned against the wall, looking straight at him. "Who's they?"

Hunter's muscles tensed before he answered. This wasn't something he enjoyed discussing, I could tell. "The leaders of the Veil, everyone who's in charge." He paused. "Everyone who wants to kill me."

We fell quiet for a while, and part of me wanted to walk up to him and wrap my arms around him like he'd done with me. Comfort him. But I also noticed that the other part of me had become wary and didn't want to pretend like he hadn't just told me that all those creatures I'd been reading from in fairytales were real.

If he wanted me to trust him—if he wanted me to believe him, he'd have to earn it. But I was willing to give him a chance to do so, which is why I took a step closer, keeping my eyes fixed on his. "Can I ask you something?"

He moved closer, too, until we were next to the window, facing each other, like the other night in my room. "Anything you want."

I could taste the words in my mouth: What's a Keeper? I was about to let them out when the sudden sound of Hunter's door opening abruptly made me jump and swallow them back.

"I haven't heard back from the guys, Hunter, and I'm..." Logan's own words drifted off as he became aware of what was happening. "Oh. I didn't know we were having guests...in your room. Alone in the house."

Hunter's muscles had tensed. He'd turned around almost instantly when he heard the door opening in the first place, but now that he could see his uncle's confused face staring back at us, he relaxed. "It's not what it looks like, Logan."

Logan's eyes fell on mine, and I acted quickly. "I think I should go."

Before I could head out the door, though, Hunter's fingers curled around my arm again. "You don't have to ...." It sounded more like a plea, but I realized I didn't want to stay.

I leaned closer, whispering in his ear so that it stayed between us. "Call me later." He nodded and I stepped back, walking past his uncle. "Logan."

"Olivia, you can stay for coffee if you want," he offered, but I was already going down the first steps. Something in his tone told me he was suspicious, yet he wanted to be polite.

"No, it's fine, Logan, thank you. I think my mother's expecting me home already."

"Well, it was nice seeing you again, Olivia," he replied quietly. "Tell Nora I said hi."

"Will do."

I saw Hunter walking out of his room and standing behind him, his eyes speaking for themselves. We both knew the conversation wasn't over—not yet. Still, I didn't linger too much, giving both of them a court nod and heading downstairs as quickly as possible.

When I reached the entrance, I heard Logan asking Hunter something in a low voice, but I didn't even want to try to listen or figure out what it was.

Instead, I hoisted my backpack from the floor where Hunter had left it and opened the door.