When I reach the town's main street, the warm air is filled with the sound of chattering students getting ready for a night out, the faint pulse of bar music, and the greasy smell of Diablos' chili hot dogs.
Trinity Falls doesn't have much to offer in the way of entertainment—except for a smattering of bars, it's mostly family-run stores, an old church, and a couple of bookshops specializing in textbooks for the students. With LA a mere half hour away, it's as if whoever built this town got bored halfway through the job and went to party there instead.
Just up ahead, dim lights from Evie's Garden Bar spill onto the sidewalk. A black cat darts across my path. Like before, I refuse to think something this cute is a bad omen.
"Hey, buddy," I say, bending down to stroke him.
He hisses at me before hurrying across the road and slipping into the crowd that's already started to build outside Apocalypse. The neon-blue sign flickers above the club's otherwise subtle entrance. The "C" of "APOCALYPSE" is a horseshoe.
"Suit yourself," I mutter as a tapping sound comes from my left. Evie's front is entirely made of glass, giving it the look of a fancy greenhouse. Josie and Lucas sit at one of the high tables in front, rapping on the window at me and pulling faces.
The corner of my lip twitches as I head to join them, but a sharp caw causes me to look up at the entrance. That same crow watches me from atop the white Evie's Garden Bar sign.
The same crow? Crows all look the same, Rach.
It caws again, its beady eyes meeting mine.
"What are you looking at?" I say.
It caws again.
"Jerk."
This time, it just tilts it head.
Inside, the bar is a bubble of noise. The space is small and mostly lit by flickering candles and fairy lights that wind through the gray trellises against the walls. Potted apple trees are dotted across the black-and-white checkered floor, and the air smells like perfume and lime wedges.
I push through a group of sorority girls to get to Josie and Lucas.
"Finally!" says Josie, removing her purse from the white barstool beside her. "It's packed tonight! I've battled the legions of hell to keep this seat free for you!"
A tall blonde in a blue dress shoots us a dirty look. When Lucas throws an evil look right back, she scowls and returns to her conversation.
"She's tried to take your seat three times already," he says.
"We're guy-watching," says Josie.
"Are you two ever not guy-watching?" I ask, sliding onto the stool. From their outfits, I can see they're expecting a big night; Josie's wearing the black dress that emphasizes her curves, and Lucas's white shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, with hipster suspenders cutting over his slender shoulders.
"Hmm . . . guilty," says Lucas. "Though you could do with a bit of guy-watching, Rach, since the crazy cat lady vibe isn't working for you anymore." He slides his gaze to the street outside. "Even cats are crapping themselves at your presence."
"Funny," I say, pulling out my cell. "Right now, I need to send off this application."
"How have you not done that yet, babe?" asks Josie, the silver crucifix around her neck glinting as she leans forward.
"Don't start. I've already had all that from my parents." I mimic my mother's high-pitched voice. "It's almost like you don't want to be a lawyer, Rachel. Such potential. Such disappointment. Why can't you be more like Jonathon? "
I stop when I notice Josie and Lucas's expressions have become serious, their eyes flicking to my tattoo, then back. I'm not sure whether I'm about to get the "sympathy for the dead brother" response or the "stand up to your parents" lecture. Either way, I slide off the stool and force a smile. I don't want to bring down the mood.
"Why don't you tell them you don't want to do law?" says Josie.
"Because then they'll ask me what I do want to do."
"And that is?" says Lucas.
"Right now, I want to read through this cover letter one more time," I say, "then I want an appletini."
Lucas picks up his cocktail glass and swirls it pensively before taking a sip of the bright green liquid. "So it's just a coincidence you came to Trinity College?"
"It has a good pre-law program."
His eyebrows raise over his glasses. "And it's close to Hollywood."
"Just because you burst into the world waving your jazz hands, Lucas, doesn't mean we all want to be actors."
"Pfft," says Lucas. "You don't have what it takes to be an actor. But after making us sit through all three Godfather movies, you can't convince me you wouldn't rather be in the film program."
"Well, if you can convince my parents it will give me a 'useful' degree, I'm all ears. But otherwise"— I lift up my cell—"I need to send this off."
They don't get it. Jonathon was a genius, and while I don't have his gift for computers, law is an ambitious enough field of study to appease my parents. My announcement about coming to Trinity a few years ago was the first time they seemed invested in me and my future since a reckless driver robbed me of my brother seven years ago. Someone needed to fill that hole.
"I can't find the network though," I add before they can act on their clear skepticism.
Josie nods to the bar. "The router's over there. Signal might be better."
"Plus, you can bring us drinks on your way back," says Lucas, tapping his now-empty glass.
"On it," I say. "Just give me a few minutes."
I push my way across the room, sliding onto a recently vacated stool just as a bartender with her dark hair tied in a ponytail approaches. A name badge is pinned to the black waistcoat she wears over her white top. Eve.
"Drinks, honey?"
I order three appletinis, then I go back to my cell. As I find the network—"EVIE'S GARDEN BAR"—a rumble of thunder sounds behind me, and the dim overhead lights flicker. Confused, I look out the window. The sky behind Apocalypse is a dusky blue, no storm in sight. I shake my head and go back to the Wi-Fi.
A long list of terms and conditions flicks onto the screen. I quickly scroll down—I have to read enough of this kind of thing in class. As I do, the "off" feeling that's been plaguing me all day intensifies for no discernible reason.
I click "Accept."
I'm logging in to the Jones and Smith recruitment portal, where all my details are saved, when a low chuckle sounds to my right.
"Something funny?" I ask, turning my head.
Adrenaline washes over me.
The guy sitting beside me is tall and well-built, with black hair shaved close to his head. Although he faces forward, I see the amused tilt to his lips. He looks like he must be in his early twenties or a few years older than me. A swirl of black ink curls up the back of his neck.
And I swear, it's the same guy I saw in the gym mirror.
"You," I say.
He turns his head slowly. "Me," he says, his voice low.
It takes everything I have not to grab the nearby pitcher of water and throw it in his face. His eyes glint. His irises are a cloudy gray, the pupils rimmed by a circle of gold. He looks like he enjoys the reaction he provokes.
"What the hell are—?"
"I'm Crow." He maneuvers his right arm across his body for me to shake. "You must be Rachel."
His accent isn't American. It's Scottish, I think. Not important, dummy—why was he stalking you through the locker room?
Realizing I'm not going to take his hand, he withdraws it and shrugs before nodding at the phone in my hand. "You know, you really should read the terms and conditions before you accept those things."
As he leans forward against the bar, my eyes can't help but drop to his body. From the way his black T-shirt clings to his muscles, I'm pretty sure he would look good without it on.
But that's beside the point.
"I saw you," I say loud enough for my voice to cut over the electro swing and the rattle of cocktail shakers. "In the gym."
"Did you now?"
"You were in the girls' locker room."
He chuckles. "Why would I be in there?"
"You tell me."
On the other side of the bar, Eve hits a snag while making my batch of appletinis. She skirts past a male bartender, throws away the empty glass bottle, then heads to the cellar to restock. Crow watches her in the mirror, an odd look on his face.
"How do you know my name?" I demand.
"Lucky guess."
"Right. So you are following me."
"Or maybe I saw your phone."
I look down at my cell. The start of a message shows on my lock screen.
Rach—hottie next to you at the bar!
Dammit, Josie.
I shoot a look over my shoulder. Bathed in the neon-blue light of Apocalypse, she laughs at something Lucas says.
"Is this some kind of pickup line?" Crow runs his thumb across his bottom lip. "The old 'you look familiar' come-on?"
I jerk my gaze from his mouth to his eyes. "What?"
"I mean, I've never heard the 'I've seen you in the locker room' variant, but it puts a creative spin on it, I'll give you that."
"I was not hitting on you."
He raises a thick eyebrow. "So you weren't mentally undressing me earlier?"
When I don't reply, his smile broadens.
"I'm busy," I say, turning back to my phone. "Go bother someone else."
I bring up the cover letter for my application and start to skim it. As he leans closer, I catch the scent of woodsmoke and outdoors. The air feels charged all of a sudden; the hairs on my arms stand on end.
"Blow it off," he says in a rough whisper.
"Excuse me?"
He looks pointedly at the cover letter. "The internship. Blow it off. There's another one already lined up for you."
I cover my screen. His full lips twitch as he leans back again and takes a swig of his beer.
"What do you know about it?" I ask.
"I know you're about to be recruited by a different agency. Don't know why though."
"Did Josie put you up to this?"
"Josie? Nah, I don't work for Josie. I work for someone much worse."
I shake my head and go back to my phone, where the letter is still open. I've only gotten to the "I am interested in an internship with your company because. . ." paragraph.
"You're wasting your time," he says.
Dislike flares within me. Without even getting to the end, I push send and close it.
"Is there something you want?" I ask.
"Always. But that's not why I'm here."
"So why are you here? To annoy me?"
"To warn you."
"What?"
"Things are about to get pretty Hellish for you, Rachel."
I swivel on my stool, our knees knocking. "Are you threatening me?"
"I suppose you could call it that. I threaten people all the time." He leans in conspiratorially. "It's kind of my job."
My blood runs cold. I don't understand what's going on. I don't even know this guy. Why would he be threatening me?
Before either of us can say anything else, Eve slides three appletinis in front of me.
"Here you go. Sorry to keep you waiting," she says. "Needed to get some—"
The smile drops from her pink lips as she notices Crow.
"Your kind aren't welcome here," she says.
Crow's smile only broadens. "Eve here's a real xenophobe," he fake whispers. "Hates the Scots."
"Get out," she says, looking down her nose at him.
Crow pushes his stool back and stands to his full height, which must be over six feet. As he does, the candles on the high tables go out, and lights in the ceiling flicker. Ice slithers down my spine, but Eve simply stares at him.
"What are you going to do, Omen?" she asks, flexing her fingers. "Fight me because I won't serve you a drink? You don't have what it takes to kill me."
Kill?
He stares at her for a hard moment. Then he grins, raising his hands. The lights stop flickering.
"That breakup with hubby's done you well, Evie," he says. "Finally grown yourself some lady balls."
"Get. Out," she says.
When he looks at me, his amusement hasn't dimmed. "I'll be seeing you soon," he says, backing away through the crowd of students. As he does, his eyes flick to my shoulder. "Nice tattoo."
It isn't until he's across the road that I realize my muscles are still tensed. Eve watches him with an equally distasteful look. Then her gaze drops to the three cocktail glasses with wedges of apple on their sugared rims. The darkness vanishes from her face.
"That'll be eighteen dollars, please," she says and smiles.
I stare at her for a moment. She's not even going to try to explain that?
"Who the hell was that?" I ask as I pull my card out of my bag.
"Him?" she says. "A bad omen. You don't want to be getting messed up with the likes of him."