Isla

  The drizzle had turned into a steady mist by the time we made it back to my apartment, both of us damp and chilled from the walk. I muttered something about how Finn probably messed with the weather just to annoy me, but he only smirked, brushing water from his jacket as I unlocked the door.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” I said dryly as we stepped inside, though the snakes’ quiet hisses suggested they’d prefer he didn’t.

  Finn shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair as if he owned the place. “You’re getting good at hospitality.”

  I rolled my eyes, toeing off my wet shoes and heading into the kitchen. “I’ll make tea. Try not to rearrange my furniture while I’m gone.”

  I busied myself with the kettle, thankful for the excuse not to look at him. The soft hum of the electric kettle helped, but the questions buzzing in my head weren’t going anywhere. Not after everything I’d seen today.

  When I turned back with two steaming mugs, I nearly dropped them.

  Finn was sitting on the couch, his legs stretched out, my favorite blanket draped over his lap like he’d earned the right to it.

  “Are you serious?” I asked, setting the mugs down on the table with a thud. “That’s my blanket.”

  He grinned, completely unbothered. “I figured, as is everything in your place. Also, it’s way too soft to be anyone else’s.”

  The snakes bristled faintly, their irritation matching my own, but I didn’t rise to the bait. Not yet. Instead, I sank into the armchair opposite him, crossing my legs and glaring. “You’ve got answers to give, Finn. No more dodging. And for the record, you can keep your hands off my stuff while you’re at it.”

  Finn’s expression didn’t falter, but he patted the cushion next to him. “If you want answers, come over here.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Why do I have to sit over there?”

  “Because I’m not shouting across the room like we’re at a board meeting,” he said lightly. His grin widened as he added, “And because you look cold.”

  I huffed but stood, grabbing one of the mugs before crossing the room. I sat carefully on the farthest edge of the couch, keeping as much distance as the small space allowed.

  “Closer,” Finn said, tugging the edge of the blanket. “Come on. I don’t bite.” He glanced at the snakes, a flicker of admiration passing over his expression. “They do, so I’m really the one who should be scared right now.”

  I scowled but slid closer, letting the soft fabric drape over my legs. It smelled faintly like him now—woodsmoke and something sharper, like the promise of a storm.

  “There,” he said, his voice quieter now. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  I ignored him, wrapping my hands around the mug and letting the tea’s warmth soak into my fingers. “Start talking.”

  Finn’s gaze flicked to mine, his expression softening. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything,” I said simply, my tone sharper than I’d intended.

  His lips twitched like he was holding back a smile. “You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

  I took a breath, the snakes shifting as I leaned back slightly. “Start with your parents. I know you’re an oracle, but that’s not the whole story, is it?”

  Finn hesitated, his fingers brushing against the edge of the blanket. “No, it’s not.”

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  “Well?” I prompted, the tension in my chest tightening.

  He sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “My mom was an oracle. A powerful one. She taught me everything I know about seeing, about controlling it. She… didn’t get the chance to finish.”

  I frowned, my tone softening. “What happened?”

  “Nothing good,” he said quietly, his gaze dropping to the mug in his hands. “It’s why I don’t talk about her much.”

  The snakes buzzed faintly, their unease rippling through me. I nodded, not pressing further. “And your dad?”

  Finn’s jaw tightened, and he leaned back, his dark eyes flicking to mine. “Fenrir.”

  “The wolf?” I asked, the word heavy on my tongue.

  He nodded once, his expression unreadable. “He wasn’t exactly in the picture, but the bloodline’s there. I got the longevity, the strength, a few other… quirks.”

  The snakes bristled faintly, their unease brushing against my thoughts like static. “And the oracle abilities? Those are all from your mom?”

  “Mostly,” he said, his voice softening again. “It’s a family thing. Not everyone gets it, but when you do, it’s… permanent.”

  “How does it work?” I asked, leaning forward slightly.

  Finn hesitated, his gaze flicking to mine. “It depends. Sometimes the visions come on their own—flashes, fragments, like intrusive thoughts. Other times, I can focus, but it costs me. Energy, strength.”

  “And the things you see—are they always sure?”

  “No,” he said simply, his voice steady. “The future shifts. Possibilities change. Most of what I see is just that—possibilities.”

  “But some things are fixed,” I pressed, enjoying him answering my questions. Things I’d been curious about for so long.

  “Yes,” he admitted, his tone quieter now. “Some things are fated. No matter what happens, they’ll come to pass.”

  Fated. He’d said the word we’d been avoiding up until now. The snakes stirred, their movements brushing against my thoughts with quiet unease. “And me? Am I one of those?”

  Finn didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned closer, his gaze holding mine with a quiet intensity. “You’re not just a possibility, Isla. You’re inevitable.”

  The words hung between us, heavier than the blanket or the warmth of the tea in my hands. I swallowed hard, the snakes buzzing softly as my thoughts churned. “Explain.”

  “I’ll tell you,” Finn said, his gaze meeting mine with quiet intensity. “But not all at once.”

  “Why not?” I asked, my frustration prickling at the edges of my voice.

  “Because there’s too much,” he said simply. “And because I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

  I wanted to push, but in reality, he’d been more than forthcoming. I’d learned more about him in this one conversation than in all our other conversations combined. The snakes were quieter now, their unease fading into something calmer.

  “Fine,” I muttered, leaning back against the couch.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. I looked in time to see Noodle slithering along the back of the couch, her small, pale form winding toward Finn. Freya followed, more languid in her movements, her larger coils stretching to loop around his arm resting along the back of the couch.

  Noodle wasn’t surprising, but Freya? I blinked, startled.

  “They’re fine,” Finn said, his voice soft but firm. His gaze didn’t waver as Freya settled herself more fully around his arm, her tongue flicking out near his jaw. Noodle didn’t settle in one spot but slithered up and down his arm. “Let them stay.”

  I hesitated, the snakes’ calm pressing against my thoughts. Even Vipes, who rarely trusted anyone, seemed content to stay coiled at the back of my neck.

  What was happening? Why did the snakes and I feel so calm? Was this man a snake charmer? Are snake charmers a thing? I felt silly even thinking it, but before I could think better of it, I asked, “Are you a snake charmer or something?”

  At my question, Finn broke into the biggest smile I’d seen from him yet, and he laughed, a deep but pleased sound. I immediately felt my face flush with embarrassment and was about to pull my snakes back when he rest his hand on mine, his eyes still twinkling but he stopped laughing. “I’m not laughing at you. And no, I’m not a snake charmer. Do those exist?”

  I held back a smile at his same questioning that I had.

  “I was just pleased. You paid me a compliment. And I liked it.”

  I could feel his hand on mine as it rests on my knee. I should be nervous and afraid. I couldn’t process any of what I was feeling.

  The discomfort of not knowing started to grow until I heard Finn give a gasp of surprise. “Freya, darling, let’s calm down,” he offered, trying to soothe, but I could still hear a little edge of nerves in his voice.

  I looked up to see Freya had started to constrict herself around his arm. I quickly moved to pull her back, but Finn stopped me with a hand out.

  “Wait,” he said calmly.

  Maddeningly calm. How is he so damn calm all the time?

  He stroked along Freya’s back murmuring comfort and reassurance to her, and all I could do was look on in shock.

  After a few moments, I finally snapped out of it enough to speak. And use brain cells. “Freya, stop. You’re hurting him.” I could hear the fear in my voice and judging by the way that Finn’s eyes snapped to mine when I spoke, he heard it too.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he reassured me. Me. The person not being squeezed by a snake.

  I huffed a laugh in disbelief at this whole situation, my panic continuing to build.