Ten

Iris woke up with the worst of headaches. Her skull was racked with a searing pain that pulsed and throbbed and felt like a million white-hot needles all at the same time. The tragedy from yesterday had completely sunk in.

She felt responsible for the actress’s death, and her sorrow over this tragedy cut like a jagged knife, piercing the very depths of her soul.

It was ten o’clock and Iris had a video call with her father in two hours. She wasn’t looking forward to it. Sure, she wanted to catch up and see how he was enjoying his time in Wales. But she had a feeling this conversation was not going to be so lighthearted.

Iris took a deep a breath and forced herself to get out of bed. For some reason, she thought of Silos—the random stranger she met at the heiress’s party—who said he was having visions of the Hollywood Cemetery too.

She hadn’t had a vision today, and she was grateful for that. But still, she wanted to know where they were coming from, and if Silos had some answers she needed to meet him. He was going to be at The Coffee Bean today so Iris figured she had plenty of time to meet him and make it back for the video call with her father. It was worth a shot.

She threw on her Hunter gear, put her trusty gold knife at her side, grabbed the keys to The Armada and sneaked out of the Fortress before her brother or cousin had any time to react.

After a short but quiet drive, Iris approached The Coffee Bean on Wilshire Boulevard to find Silos already sitting at a table in front of the shop with two iced coffees in hand. One was black, and the other was full of what appeared to be cream. That’s the thing about Los Angeles—you can enjoy iced coffee even during the peak of fall because the weather almost always permits it.

The store was busy and Silos was occupying the last open table on the patio. He wore sunglasses, a gray T-shirt, dark jeans, and black leather motorcycle boots. The tribal tattoos wrapped around his arms were even more prominent in the daylight, as was his sharp jaw line and five o’clock shadow.

His dirty blond hair seemed purposefully messy, and he wore a permanent smirk on his face. He had this look about him. The kind of look most women would throw their morals down the drain for. But Iris saw right through it.

“Hello, love,” he said as she walked toward the table. His voice was as creamy as butter, and his light Scottish accent tugged at her stomach.

“You call everybody ‘love’ don’t you?” Iris wasn’t very familiar with how people spoke in the UK. She didn’t mean to sound ignorant but she was hoping he picked up on her cynicism.

“Maybe.” He bit his lip. “I got you an iced coffee with a pump of vanilla and cream.”

“What!” she shrieked. “How did you know that’s my drink? Are you some psycho-stalker?” she said, half-serious, half-joking. Iris was ready to kick this guy’s ass if need be, but she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Don’t worry. I’m not stalking you.” His face gleamed. “I’m just good with people. I figured you were way too serious about coffee to like a blended drink or a dolled-up mocha, but since you have an obvious taste for adventure, I figured you’re the type who likes to indulge a little. Not too much, but just a little. Hence, the one pump of vanilla.”

“Oh my God,” Iris said, as her mouth nearly dropped to her waist. “You’re crazy, you know that.” She slowly took a seat and leaned back in the chair, allowing the October sun to dance against her face. Silos handed Iris her drink.

“Take a sip,” he ordered. “It’s good.”

She did. Because frankly, she wasn’t sure what to say at the moment. The coffee was deliciously rich. Full bodied with notes of bittersweet cocoa and a hint of toffee. It was just the right amount of sweetness and the perfect ratio of cream.

Iris relaxed her shoulders, taking in a whiff of the freshly ground coffee beans lingering from inside the cafe. It was her favorite scent.

“So, do you go to Melrose?” Iris asked. Car horns and engines loomed in the background on this busy Beverly Hills street.

“Melrose Academy? Oh no.” Silos shook his head. “I’m far too old for high school.”

Iris huffed before taking another sip of coffee. “You don’t look too old,” she said, examining his smooth face.

“Well, technically I’m eighteen.”

“I hate to break it to you, but that makes you just over a year older than me,” Iris said with some attitude. “Also, eighteen is not too old for high school.” She squinted her eyes. Weirdo, she thought to herself.

“Well, when it comes down to it, I think I just find high school to be rather dull.” He paused. “The drama, the cliques, it’s one big popularity contest. Not my style.”

Finally something they agreed on.

“So, you from Scotland?”

“Aye. What gave me away?” he cooed in a flirtatious tone.

“Besides your accent? I don’t know,” Iris said pensively. “You just don’t seem like you’re from here.”

He beamed with pride. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Iris’s face dimmed. “Okay. Enough chatting,” she asserted. “About these visions—”

“That’s right,” he interrupted. “The real reason you’re here.” Silos leaned forward, placing his hands on the table.

“Yes,” Iris snapped back. “I’m not here for coffee and conversation. I don’t even know you.”

Silos flinched. “Ouch,” he laughed, scratching his chin. “Well now, here we are, getting to know each other. Fancy that.”

“Look,” Iris said, crossing her arms. “I just want to know what you’re seeing and when it started.”

“All right.” He held out his hand. “Ladies first.”

“Fine.” She cleared her throat. “The vision started yesterday,” she explained, matter-of-factly. “I haven’t had one yet today, but it basically starts with me at the Hollywood Cemetery and then a bunch of crap starts happening.”

“Crap?” Silos snickered. “Is that how you would describe being left in the bitter cold with rain pouring down your face after a witch throws your body against a tombstone, and cracks open your skull?”

“Yes. Crap.” She tilted her head and grabbed her coffee, biting at the straw as she sipped on the iced beverage.

“You’re something, Iris.” He took off his glasses and peered at her with his baby blues. Iris quietly gasped. Silos had the most breathtaking eyes she’d ever seen. They glistened like a diamond in the early morning sun. The blue reminded her of the shallow water of the Cayman sea. Clear as crystal. Invigorating.

She blushed as her body tingled in places she didn’t know existed. She instinctively looked away.

“So,” she asked, still glancing the opposite direction. “Why do you think this is happening to us?”

“To be honest, love, I’m not sure.” His voice sounded sincere. “But I do know this,” he said as he leaned over the table. “There’s something strange going on in Hollywood, Iris,” he whispered in her ear. “Something sinister and possibly even magical.” He lingered in front of her face. “Do you know what I’m talking about?”

Iris’s chest rose. “I—”

She jumped at the sound of her phone. It was an alarm she had set to remind her to get back to the Fortress in time for her meeting with her father.

“Dammit,” she spat, hopping to her feet. She quickly downed the last of her iced coffee. “Thanks for the drink.” She held out her hand to shake his. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight.

“It was my pleasure,” he said with a smile. “Another time, then?”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.” Iris smirked before turning her heel and walking down the street toward The Armada.

Silos, she thought as she walked away. He’s trouble.

But Iris was never afraid of a little trouble.