by Bree Despain
I hung up from the last call, expecting to feel drained, but all I felt was anxiety. That was because there was one number I’d dialed seven times without getting an answer—Daniel’s.
Why wouldn’t he pick up the phone?
He’s probably just sleeping, I tried to tell myself. If he’s still sick, then he needs rest and I shouldn’t bother him.
However, tension tingled in my muscles every time my mind drifted to the image of that motorcycle that looked like his parked only a few blocks from The Depot. But it couldn’t have been his bike, could it? What would he have been doing in the city?
No, it wasn’t Daniel’s bike. He was sick in bed—that’s what he said, anyway.
I mean, why would he lie?
I tried to read a book for English class for a while and then tackled the mountain of chores Mom forced on Charity and me even though it was Sunday. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t shake the restlessness in my body. I wanted out of my house. I wanted to go to Daniel.
I wanted to run.
That was one of the things I still hadn’t gotten used to in all of this being-infected stuff—the need to run. I’d never been a runner before. In fact, our tenth-grade gym teacher dubbed April and me the “turtle twins” because we always came in last during the daily mile: April because she didn’t care for sweating, and me because I didn’t care for running. But now I often craved a good run, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to relax all day if I didn’t pound out the aching in my muscles on the pavement—and check on Daniel in the process.
Mom was dressing James in his jacket for an evening trip out to the senior center to visit Mrs. Ludwig and a couple of the other widows from the parish (one of Dad’s Sunday tasks) when I came downstairs in my running clothes and shoes.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.
“I really need a run, Mom. I’ve finished all my homework and cleaned all the bathrooms and organized the laundry room, like you asked.” More like demanded, but whatever. “I won’t be gone too long, I promise.”
The pinched look on her face convinced me she wasn’t going to let me out of the house. But she snapped the last button on James’s jacket and hooked her purse on her shoulder. “Very well, then. But do not go too far from home,” she said. “It will be dark soon, and you never know who’s out there these days.”
“Okay.” I didn’t tell her I was planning on running all the way to Oak Park, and slipped out the door before she could change her mind.
I stopped at the walnut tree and rested my hand against it while I stretched my quads, then started out in a light jog. All day long, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what had happened the night before. I’d had my powers in my grasp, reined them in for once, and used them for a moment. I’d sparred with Daniel time and again, but actually using my powers to really fight that guy off and protect someone I cared about was absolutely exhilarating.
And I wanted more.
I was a mile from home when the familiar aching of my powers began to well inside my body, pooling in my muscles, making my shoulders shake and my legs throb. I increased my speed to a flat-out sprint.
The sun was sinking behind the hills of Rose Crest, and I knew Mom would want me to turn back toward home. But I couldn’t stop thinking about how frustrating it had been when my powers had dissipated last night and I’d had to rely on someone else to come to my aid. If I’d had better control, then I could have taken those guys on without any help. And even more frustrating was the realization that I really did need my powers if I was going to find Jude. Last night’s debacle had proven that to me.
I concentrated on the pain engulfing my body. Tried to embrace it. Tried to will my legs to run faster and harder than ever before.
But nothing happened.
I couldn’t break through whatever barrier stood between me and my being able to use my powers fully.
LATER
My legs were about as stable as putty erasers when I jogged into Daniel’s neighborhood, toward Maryanne Duke’s old house. I’d been hoping to be able to share good news with Daniel—tell him how I’d finally gotten a handle on my speed and agility—but instead my shoulders sagged with frustration. I didn’t understand it. Why had I been able to use my powers last night, but not right now? What was the difference?
But my frustration shifted into curiosity as I approached Maryanne’s house and saw Daniel out front, strapping down a duffel bag on the back of his Honda Shadow.
“Hey,” I called as I jogged up the driveway.
Daniel crouched and adjusted one of the straps holding down his bag. “What’re you doing here?”
“Checking up on … Um, just stopping by to say hi.” I gave him a slight wave. “So, um, hi.”
“Hi.” Daniel scratched at the bandage on his forearm, then tested the hold of a second strap that secured his bag. He hadn’t even looked at me yet.
“What’s going on?” I fingered the zipper on his duffel. “Are you going somewhere?”
Daniel grunted, but before he could answer we both turned at the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway behind us. Not just any car—the sheriff’s patrol truck. Daniel stiffened and straightened up. His dark eyes finally flicked in my direction for half a second and then returned to his duffel bag on the back of his bike. He stepped in front of it as Sheriff Ford and Deputy Marsh got out of the truck.
“Hello, there, sir,” he said to the sheriff. “Is there a problem, or something I can help you with?” He sounded like someone who’d been pulled over for speeding many times—which I didn’t doubt. Daniel had always had a thing for moving fast. But the pale look on Sheriff Ford’s face made me pretty sure he had something much more serious than traffic tickets on his mind.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Either of you know a Tyler Whitney?” Ford asked.
“No,” Daniel said. “Pretty sure I don’t.”
“Well, I have a witness who says you do.” He pointed at the bandage on Daniel’s arm. “Someone says you got into an altercation with Tyler and a couple of his friends the other night.”
“Wait. Tyler?” I looked up at Daniel. His expression was like stone. “I think he means Pete Bradshaw’s friend Ty.” The one I saw at the club last night. “This is totally bogus,” I said to the sheriff. “Because if they’re pressing charges, then you should know that Daniel and I were minding our own business when they approached us. Daniel only acted in self-defense.”
“Grace,” Daniel said, a warning tone in his voice.
“What? They should know the truth.”
“Looks like you got pretty hurt,” Deputy Marsh said. “You weren’t looking for a little payback, were you? Didn’t track Tyler down and try to teach him a lesson for messing with you? Maybe went a little too far?”
“What?” Daniel stared Deputy Marsh right in the eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Did something happen to this Tyler kid?”
Sheriff Ford cleared his throat. “He’s dead.”
My stomach lurched. “What happened?”
“His roommate, a Pete Bradshaw”—Sheriff Ford consulted his notepad—“found him outside their apartment this morning. Looks like he was jumped in the parking lot and beaten to death sometime during the night.”
“Pete told us you had an altercation with him two nights ago,” Deputy Marsh said. “He said you’d be looking for revenge.”
“That’s insane,” I said. “Daniel would never attack anyone.” Well, at least not the new, werewolf-free Daniel. “Pete’s a total liar. He’d say anything to get Daniel in trouble.”
“I assure you, sir, I had nothing to do with this,” Daniel said to the sheriff, sounding much calmer than I did.
“You two have quite the history with Mr. Bradshaw, as I recall.” Deputy Marsh glared at Daniel. “Perhaps you were looking to settle an old score with Pete, but went after his roommate when you couldn’t find him. You must have been angry when the charges were dropped
in your girlfriend’s case, considering the only other witness died. Most guys wouldn’t take it lightly if their girl was attacked by a classmate who got off without even a slap on the wrists. Perhaps the fight from the other night was the final straw.”
“Marsh,” the sheriff snapped. Ford liked Daniel a lot more than his deputy did, and he had a lot of respect for my father. Either that, or they were doing a great job at playing good cop/bad cop. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the details, but we have reason to believe that Tyler’s death may have been connected with the burglary at Day’s Market, but since you had an altercation with Tyler and you work at Day’s, we need to ask you a few questions. We can do it here or at the station.”
“Wait, now you’re blaming him for Day’s Market, too?”
“We’re not blaming, just investigating.”
Anger roiled in my stomach. Pete and his stupid accusations were making a fine mess of our lives. If Tyler and the market were connected, then this probably had more to do with his being at The Depot last night. Gah! Of course. The Depot! Those gamer guys had looked like they wanted to skin Tyler alive for messing up their game. What if they’d followed him home and decided to mess him up in return?
“Tyler likes to hang out a place called The Depot … in the city. Maybe you should—”
Daniel shot me a weighted look.
Deputy Marsh’s thin eyebrows perked into arches. “So you’re aware of Tyler’s whereabouts last night? That’s interesting. His friends were supposed to meet him at a place called The Depot, but he wasn’t around when they got there. Were you two following him?”
“Um … no.” Crap, how come everything I said made Daniel look guiltier? How could I tell them what I saw at the club without letting them know that I’d been there myself? It would only make it sound like I was following Tyler. “I’m just saying that I’ve heard it’s a dangerous place, and if Tyler went there and stepped on the wrong toes … like messed up someone’s video game, they might be mad enough to take it out on him.”
“You think Tyler was killed over a video game?” Deputy Marsh asked.
“It’s possible,” I said, but I didn’t sound like even I believed myself at this point. I really probably should just shut up.
“We’ll look into it,” Ford said. “But in the meantime, I have to ask you, Daniel, about your whereabouts last night.”
Daniel tensed beside me. I could almost feel the stress radiating off his body. He’d seemed so calm until this moment. I looked at him, waiting for his reply.
“I was here,” he said slowly, deliberately, “watching TV.”
“Between the hours of ten p.m. and one a.m.? What did you watch? Times? Channels? Any specific commercials you can remember?”
“Um …” Daniel’s fingers twitched next to mine. I wanted to grab his hand to calm the tic before the others noticed it—but that would probably be just as noticeable. “I don’t recall anything specific.”
“Really,” Deputy Marsh asked, “nothing at all?” He put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest like he was preparing to grab Daniel and haul him down to the station. The cocky smile on his face made it seem like he’d enjoy doing it, too.
Daniel took a slight step back, his fingers still twitching. “I’m sorry. I really can’t remember.”
I stepped forward. “What he means is that he was distracted. We were here … together. The TV was on, but we weren’t exactly, you know, watching it.” I blushed even though I wasn’t telling the truth, but hopefully it would blend in with the red splotches that always painted my neck whenever I lied.
Daniel gave me a look like he was surprised by my acting abilities—but hopefully grateful.
“I stayed until about two a.m. Daniel just didn’t mention it because, you know … you won’t tell my dad, will you?” I asked, wringing my hands. I didn’t even have to act that part. “Please?”
Sheriff Ford cleared his throat. “And you’re sure you were here with him the whole time, alone?”
I nodded.
“Very well, then.” Ford slipped his notepad into his pocket. “That’s all I needed to know.”
Marsh’s shoulders dropped, though the cocky smirk stayed on his face. He indicated the duffel bag strapped to Daniel’s bike. “I hope you’re not planning on leaving town anytime soon.”
“No, sir,” Daniel said quietly.
“We’ll be watching you,” Deputy Marsh said.
Daniel and I stood side by side and watched the two officers climb into the truck and drive away. Daniel’s fingers twitched even after they were gone. I grabbed his hand before he could turn away.
“So tell me,” I said. “Where were you last night?”
A FULL SIXTY SECONDS OF SILENCE LATER
The longer Daniel went without speaking, the more my muscles tensed. I could feel that familiar aching inside of me—like I did when I knew something was wrong. It was that same feeling that made me want to fight or run.
Daniel tugged at my grasp on his hand. I was squeezing it tighter than I realized. His fingertips were bright red.
I let go of his hand. I felt a rush of guilt as he rubbed his fingers and then the bandage on his forearm. I was sure I’d aggravated the pain of his stitches. But that guilt edged into anger. Why should you feel guilty when he’s the one in the wrong? a foreign voice said inside my mind. I shook myself. I don’t know why I’d even thought that. There was no excuse for causing someone pain.
“Why won’t you tell me where you were last night?” I asked. “It should be a simple question.”
Daniel scratched behind his ear and looked off into the twilight that surrounded us now. “I said it already. I was here. Watching TV.”
He’s lying, said that foreign voice inside my head. You lied to the cops for him, and he pays you back with more lies.
I took a step back. Why was I hearing a voice inside my head that didn’t even sound like my own? But it pointed out the blaring truth.
“I just lied to the cops for you, Daniel. Don’t you think you owe me an explanation as to why I needed to?”
“I never asked you to lie.” Daniel shoved his hands in his pockets. It was like he didn’t know what to do with his twitching fingers. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“You don’t?” My voice cracked with anger. “After all we’ve been through?” After everything you’ve done for him! that voice said. “I saved your damned soul—quite literally—and you think you don’t owe me a simple explanation as to where you were last night? What the hell were you doing?”
“That’s not what I meant.” Daniel dropped his shoulders and looked up at the sky. “I just … can’t.”
“Can’t what? Tell me? Trust me?” I practically shouted at him. It was like I couldn’t control the volume of my voice.
“Please, Gracie. Just be patient with me. I need you to stay out of it. Give me some space.”
“Some space?” Fire burned under my skin. I shook with anger and surging power. Something was wrong. Most definitely wrong. Fight or Flight, that voice whispered inside my head. But a small, rational part of my brain didn’t want to lash out at Daniel, so I did what felt like second nature to me now. “Have all the space you want,” I said, and ran.
“Wait, Gracie!” Daniel shouted as I bolted down the driveway. “Damn it, that’s not what I meant.”
But I kept running—even when I heard the roar of Daniel’s motorcycle behind me. I picked up my speed. He shouted my name, told me to stop. But I couldn’t. Power seeped into every cell of my body, pushing me faster. Daniel pulled up beside me on his motorcycle. I could hear him calling me, but I veered up onto the curb and cut through several yards and weaved in between houses where he couldn’t follow.
And even though I knew I’d shaken Daniel, I didn’t slow down. The crescent-shaped scar on my arm flared like crazy. I picked up my already sprinting pace. I ran faster now than I could have ever dreamed of only a few months before. But I willed myself to go even faster.
I needed it.
Craved it.
My feet picked up momentum like lightning under me. The night was dark now, but as the blood pulsed into my face, I felt a burning pressure behind my eyes. I blinked and suddenly my vision was clearer, sharper, almost as if the night had brightened. I could see just as well as if it were dusk on a cloudy day.
But the thing was, I didn’t need to see. My feet knew where to go on instinct. They landed in just the right places, narrowly missing the cracks and potholes in the uneven streets. They found the easiest path between the headstones and overgrown bushes in the graveyard on Faraway Boulevard. And with every lightning-quick step, the pain and anger inside of me melted away, replaced by a feeling of sheer exhilaration.
Freedom.
Abandon.
Like how I’d felt the first time I ran with Daniel in the forest. Back when he was the one who had to pull me along. Back when I was only human. It had felt wonderful then … like nothing I’d known before. But this was so much more than that. Not merely energy transferred from someone else. This came from inside of me. This was my power. And no one could take it away from me.
I tilted my head back, taking in the glow of the glistening sliver of a moon rising in the night sky as I ran, and let that feeling of power wash through me. Tingling warmth spread up my arms and legs and into my chest. You’re in control now, that foreign voice reassured me as I ran.
I’d finally broken through the barrier.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Stranger
AN HOUR LATER
The moon peeked over the steeple of the parish as I sprinted down Crescent Street. It was a Sunday, and a school night, and most of Rose Crest had gone to bed. I’d passed only a couple of cars on the street, and the parking lot for the school and the parish was empty. It felt exhilarating to have gone so far, done so much, while most of the town was tucked in bed at home. And I still couldn’t believe that I’d run full tilt for so long, using all my powers at the same time without losing my grip on them. Part of me wanted to go back to Daniel’s—tell him the good news, see the look of pride on his face. But then I remembered why I’d started running in the first place, and my heart sank with sorrow.
