The Shadow Crosser (The Storm Runner 3)

Her question threw me off guard. My cheeks flared. How did she know that? Was anything secret from the gods?

“Nah,” I said, shrugging it off. “She had a drawing of a demon on her folder.”

But it was more than that. I knew it then, and I knew it now. Brooks got me, like, really got me, even though I annoyed her half the time. We always had each other’s backs. And no matter how much time we spent apart, our link only grew stronger. As soon as she walked (or flew) onto the scene, I felt like everything would turn out okay no matter what. Even when monsters and gods were trying to crush us.

“Maybe there was a connection because you had already met her,” Pacific said in a way that told me she already knew the answer.

“Huh?”

“I couldn’t figure it out at first,” she said, tapping her chin. “But then you went to 1987, and it made me wonder: Did something happen there?” she asked. “Something strong enough to create a bond with Brooks way before the two of you were born?”

Rosie let out a little groan.

Something? Like a kiss? Oh, crap! Had Brooks and I somehow changed the future?

Brooks’s eyes locked with mine, and she started to walk over, which I guess Pacific took as her cue to leave.

I met Brooks halfway, ducking a monkey that was trying to swipe Fuego.

Brooks laughed as the monkey ran off, shrieking in frustration. Then her eyes landed on Rosie, and she fell to her knees to welcome my dog. “Rosie?” she squealed. “I can’t believe it!”

The boxmatian ate up every stroke, scratch, and hug that Brooks gave her while I explained what Ixtab had told me. Rosie sniffed the air and took off toward whatever scent she had caught.

“So what now?” Brooks asked. “I mean, the world isn’t ending, and there aren’t any castles to storm.”

“We could be normal?” I said, thinking that sounded perfect.

“A normal godborn and a normal shape-shifter,” she said, nodding as she tapped her feet to the music.

“And a normal dog,” I said, still wearing a goofy grin.

Brooks frowned. “Well, one thing isn’t normal. I mean…I think we messed up.”

“What? How?”

She hesitated. Her eyes flicked to the fiesta. “We kissed.”

My heart flopped like a fish out of water. I thought she was going to pretend that never happened—let it stay in 1987.

Crap. Say something, Zane. Say something really smooth.

“Is that bad?”

NOT SMOOTH.

Shrugging, she said, “Don’t know. It was in 1987, which means…”

“What?”

She glanced up at me. “I don’t think it counted.”

Uh, yeah, I didn’t know what she meant by counted, but it happened, and what did it matter when it happened?

Before I could stick my foot in my mouth with more dumb words, Brooks said, “I mean…unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you think it was real…I mean, like, technically, it wasn’t, right?”