Against my better judgment, I looked up at him again. Tiny freckles spotted his nose. Small flecks of brown glistened in his eyes, as if his eye color couldn’t commit to hazel or olive—it was a mixture. Lilith, he’s beautiful. My gaze was lost in his, a sea of moss and caramel, his musky outdoorsy-soldier scent engulfing me.
Explosions shook the restaurant, breaking us out of our reverie. I teetered, and Oliver steadied me with a hand on my back.
“Thanks,” I muttered as clarity broke through my stupid, heartsick brain.
Oliver’s lips pressed together, his expression sobering. He gazed toward the restaurant door, his eyes distant. Haunted.
I knew that look well. I saw it every day in the mirror.
I flinched when rapid gunfire assaulted my ears. I resisted the urge to crouch into a fetal position and cover my head with my hands. No one else in the room seemed worried about being shot. My eyes frantically darted around the restaurant, waiting for soldiers to burst through and shoot everyone.
“We’re in the magical realm,” Oliver explained, as if reading my mind. “Do you remember those rundown apartments you saw when you first arrived? The red door you passed through? It’s enchanted. They can’t hurt us while we’re on this side.”
“So if we leave the restaurant . . .”
“We’ll be safe unless we cross through that red door again to the mortal realm.”
I looked up at him, suddenly realizing something. “Why aren’t you out there with the soldiers?”
A dejected expression spread across his face as he lifted his injured arm.
“But—” I faltered, my mouth dry. “But can’t someone heal you?”
“Technically, yes, but all our healers are tending to the soldiers. Lesser injuries like yours and mine have to heal on their own.”
My mouth became very small. Shame crept into my cheeks as I muttered, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I wanted to free those prisoners, too. It was our mission, and I don’t regret anything. Well, except maybe leaving you behind so I could get myself out first.” A bitter grimace soured his expression.
“Stop.” I touched his shoulder. “You were a wreck after opening that hole. If you’d stayed behind for me to climb through first, you would’ve died.” I glanced around as the gunfire stopped. “They won’t kill civilians, will they?”
Oliver exhaled loudly. “They don’t want to, Desi. But if the Spanish don’t concede, the Americans might not have a choice.”
I thought of the crowd of women I’d seen after stumbling down the hills a few days ago. Though she hadn’t understood English, the woman who’d spoken to me had been so kind. She didn’t deserve to be a casualty of a war she didn’t fight.
And Kismet. She was here somewhere, too. In my time, I’d never asked her what her crime had been. It had never interested me before, and a part of me had been too scared to ask. What if she’d murdered someone? I hadn’t wanted to know.
But now I needed to know. Was she working with El Diablo? Or perhaps she was innocent? A prisoner like me. I hadn’t seen her attack anyone.
I couldn’t just abandon Kismet and these innocent people. Getting home would have to wait.
I squared my shoulders and clenched my teeth. My eyes roved around the room until I found Alba, who was deep in conversation with Elena. I marched toward them, ignoring Oliver’s protests. Their discussion stopped at my abrupt interruption.
“How can I help?” I asked Alba.
“You’ve done enough,” Elena snapped, her eyes narrowing. “Half our coven is injured because of your stunt with the demons. It’s a miracle none of us were killed trying to rescue you.”
Shame and anger warred within me. I opened my mouth to argue, but the retort died on my lips. She just lost her brother, I reminded myself. The hardness in her eyes indicated that any response from me wouldn’t be received kindly. Instead of fueling her fire, I ignored her and returned my gaze to Alba.
“Desi, are you sure you can manage?” Alba asked. “You’re still healing.”
I straightened and tilted up my chin. “I can manage. Just tell me what you need from me.”
“If she can manage, then so can I,” said Oliver, approaching from behind me.
Dread coiled in my stomach. I can’t let him get hurt again. Not because of me. “Oliver, you’re recovering too.” I pointed to his arm. “That looks pretty bad.”
Oliver waved a hand. “It’s nothing.”
“But if you’re too injured to fight as a soldier, then—”
“I’m coming, Desi.” Oliver’s jaw tensed, ending the argument.
“Don’t underestimate him,” Elena said, nudging Oliver with her elbow, her eyes glowing with affection.
I snorted and then quickly disguised it as a cough, rubbing my nose and avoiding Oliver’s gaze.
Alba cleared her throat loudly, her keen eyes shifting from me, to Elena, and then to Oliver. “Right. Well, Oliver and Desi, if you’re sure, you go meet Ramón on the other side to shepherd civilians to our realm so they can evacuate the city safely.”
Elena’s eyes nearly bulged out of her face. “To our realm? But Alba, that—”
“I know. It breaches our code of secrecy. But this is a war, and we don’t have a Council to answer to. I won’t let innocent people die to protect our secret.”
My eyes drifted to Oliver. Do they know he’s on the American Council?
He shook his head, almost imperceptibly.
Guess that’s a no.
“I’ll go with them,” Elena offered. “Oliver’s injured, and Desi’s untrained. They’ll need help.”
I scowled as more embarrassment burned in my cheeks.
“I need you here to oversee the refugees and hide them from demons,” Alba said, her eyebrows creased with worry. “I fear this will present a huge target to El Diablo. This is why he started the war in the first place.”
My head reared back in shock. “El Diablo started the Spanish-American War?”
Six pairs of eyes watched me blankly.
I cleared my throat. “I, uh—sorry. I just can’t believe it.” Imagine reading about that in history textbooks.
“Our coven recovered evidence of
