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Back Seasons of Chaos Save as PDF
Chapters (70)
  1. Dedication
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. Epilogue
  66. Acknowledgments
  67. About the Author
  68. Books by Elle Cosimano
  69. Back Ad
  70. About the Publisher

“It’s okay to pause the world sometimes, to take the time you need to heal and think after suffering a trauma, as you and Fleur have done. But it’s not too late, Jack. You can always choose another way forward. Gaia and I would be here for you, if you decided to try,” he says delicately. “We won’t let you go through it alone.”

I bite my tongue. I made an oath, too, to keep Fleur safe. To honor her choices. And I won’t throw this one in her face to save my own pride. “I’m fine.”

“Very well, then,” he says. “I’ve wired your quarterly living allowances to your accounts. And I’ve procured permanent visas for you and Fleur so you may remain in Mexico as long as you wish. They’ll arrive by courier later this week, along with new passports in case you change your mind about returning to the Observatory—”

“Or for when Fleur and I plan our trip,” I remind him.

His mouth quirks up as he continues. “Your new documents will hold up to routine airport scrutiny, but I’d advise you both to avoid any legal entanglements, to prevent any investigations into your identities. Mind the speed limit while driving, and don’t get into any skirmishes involving the police.” His clear eyes twinkle like the crystal in the eye of his staff, reflecting all my past decisions and every possibility in my future. I grin in spite of myself. Lyon’s the closest thing I’ve had to a father figure in more than thirty years, and even though we don’t always see eye to eye, it’s comforting to know he’s there looking out for me.

“I’ll behave.”

“I won’t count on it,” he says wryly. “If you speak to Amber, Julio, and the others, be sure to send my best.”

“I will.”

“And Jack,” he says, his voice tinged with melancholy, “I know you and Fleur have no desire to return here. After all you’ve both been through, I suppose I’ve no right to expect otherwise. But you will both always have a home here. Don’t ever doubt that.”

If I shut my eyes right now, I could smell his office—the heavy scent of coffee and aging books, the dry pinch of his chalk in the back of my throat. I nod, swallowing a small nagging yearning to go back. To see my smaze. To see him.

“Until next time, Jack.”

“See you, Professor.” I hold my smile until his image flickers out.

3

The Callus on His Soul

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DOUG