by C. P. Rider
"Emilio?" Grandpa Holli's eyes widened.
I looked over my shoulder to find my abuelo standing in the doorway. He was drenched. His expression hardened when he saw me, but he said nothing.
Grandpa Holli swiped a dishtowel off the dining table and dabbed at the water on his husband's face. "You're soaked to the bone. What happened?"
"Russ from the Fire Department had to douse some fires just outside town." He shrugged out of his coat and squelched across the room in his wet loafers to hang it over a dining room chair. Grandpa Holli intercepted the coat and ran it through the kitchen and into the laundry room. "His ability isn't exactly precise. The splash zone was bigger than anticipated."
"How did the fires start?" Grandpa Holli asked from the next room.
Abuelo's gaze slid to me. "Apparently somebody disturbed a mountain chimera."
"A chimera?" Grandpa Holli came back to the room carrying a laundry basket and a towel. He indicated that Abuelo should put his wet shoes in the basket. "They never come this close to town."
"They do if provoked." He put his shoes in the basket and accepted the towel. "Thank you, amor."
"You're welcome. Where is it now?"
"Back in the mountains. Apparently, someone performed one of the old rituals and the chimera agreed to leave."
"Really? I didn't think anyone remembered them."
"There are a few out there who make it a point to remember." He looked straight into my eyes, and I knew he knew Cindy had performed the ritual.
"Good thing, then." Grandpa Holli picked up the basket.
"Hollister, don't clean up after me. I can wash that stuff."
"I know you can, but I've already got a load ready to go in. It'll be no trouble. Come on, Toby. Time for a last trip outside." He took the clothing and my dog, and left the room without a backward glance.
If I were a betting woman, I'd have bet my last two bottles of prismatic nail polish he didn't have a load ready to go into the washer. Grandpa hated doing laundry and usually left it to Abuelo or me. He'd left the room on purpose so Abuelo and I could be alone.
How thoughtful of him.
When he was gone, Abuelo rounded on me. If flames had poured out of his mouth, he would not have looked any scarier than he did at that moment.
"What the devil were you thinking?"
26
Neither of us said a word or moved a muscle.
I stood tall, preparing myself for whatever punishment he had for me. Coming home at four in the morning without so much as a phone call? I deserved it.
"Tonta." Abuelo said.
Even though my knowledge of Spanish was beginner level compared to his, I knew what that meant. Fool.
I pressed my lips together to keep myself from speaking. I deserve this.
"What were you thinking, going to a chimera-watching party?"
Uh-oh. He knew about a lot more than Cindy performing rituals. "I was invited by some kids from school. I didn't know what would happen," I said, deciding that playing dumb would be my best bet.
It wasn’t, if Abuelo's expression was any indication.
"You didn't know that a chimera would show up to a chimera-watching party? Dios mio, if you're going to lie to my face, at least do a better job than that."
"I thought it was just a prank. I didn't think one would actually show up."
"But one did."
I couldn't dispute that.
"The problem is, you don't seem to realize you aren't in the Other anymore." He pointed out the dining room window toward the Divide. "Things here have consequences. Grave consequences."
"That's true in my world, too."
"And do you have creatures like the chimera over there?"
"No." I stared at the teacups on the table and tried hard not to yawn. I was too tired for this conversation, but I didn't see any way of getting out of it. "On my side of the Divide, chimeras are myths, stories."
"Do you know why that is?"
I met his eyes, shook my head.
The creases around his eyes and mouth seemed to deepen as he spoke. "Because your world has very little magic. To support the life force of a chimera or any other creature in our Beyond, there must be magic."
"When you say magic, it sounds silly to me. Even magic is a myth."
"Here, we respect its power. Magic is a force as strong as gravity. It is in the air we breathe, in the soil beneath our feet, in the blood thrumming through our veins."
"That's why my ability is stronger here?"
He snapped a nod as he blotted his wet clothing with the towel Grandpa Holli had given him. "Speaking of your ability, your actions have put everyone in town at risk."
"My actions?" Was he really blaming me for unleashing the chimera on Dead End? I deserved to be punished for being late, but I was not taking the blame for that. "I didn't even get near the chimera, let alone upset her."
He seemed to give up on drying himself with the towel and flicked it over one of the wood dining chairs. "I'm not talking about the party, Maria."
"Then what are you talking about?"
Abuelo's tone went low. "I'm talking about the practice sessions you've been having with Samuel Bekker."
This again? Why was he so hung up on that? "What does that have to do with anything?"
"I told you that using your ability to try to stabilize a ripper was dangerous, but you thought you knew better than me. Now the chimera is hunting closer to town than it ever has before, and the limpid worms are appearing faster than we can get rid of them. Your reckless behavior is going to end up hurting someone."
Exhaustion pressed in from all angles. I gripped the chair nearest me, preparing to sit. "Why?"
"The vibrations draw them in. It's like a melody, playing especially for them. The beckoning call of a siren."
"Why didn't you tell me that before?" And why didn't Samuel mention it?
"I did. You didn't listen."
"No, you told me it was dangerous and that you wouldn't teach me how to stabilize a ripper." I released the back of the dining chair. There was no way I could sit now. I wanted to pace the room to work off some of my frustration, but I held myself still.
"It's the same thing."
"No, it's not." I fisted my hands, digging into my palms with my fingernails. "Do you even hear yourself?"
My grandfather's face flooded with color. He clamped his teeth together and forced the words out between them. "I am telling you now, Maria. Stop trying to stabilize the rippers. Not only are the rippers themselves exceedingly dangerous, but in doing so, you risk drawing more creatures out of the Beyond."
"I have to get to my dad." Heat suffused my cheeks, and I gritted my teeth. Could he not see how much saving Dad meant to me? Or maybe he did see and didn't care.
"You told us your father was a law enforcement officer. Would he want you to risk the lives of the people in this town to save his?"
No, he wouldn't, and I hated my grandfather for bringing that up.
"If you showed me how to stabilize one, I wouldn't need to practice so much. It would solve both our problems." My voice went soft and small. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I just need my dad. Please."
Abuelo shook his head. "Rippers are dangerous, Maria. Don't go near them."
Desperation faded into resignation. He wasn't going to help me. Not because he thought the rippers were dangerous, but because he didn't give a crap about me or my dad.
"I know the real reason you won't teach me."
"Real reason? I told you the real reason. It's dangerous."
"That's not it." I shook my head, shrugged. "Teaching me how to control my ability would require us to spend time together, and you've made it clear you don't want me here."
His forehead scrunched until I couldn't see where his eyebrows ended and his eyelashes began. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about all those one-sided conversations through the pages of your newspaper. The looks of disappointment you give me when you th
ink I'm not paying attention. You hate that it was me who twisted the lock on the café door. I was the wrong Maria." I hit my chest with both hands as I sobbed out the words. My heart pounded my ribs sore, and the act of holding back my tears burned my throat.
He drew back as if I'd slapped him. "No."
"Admit it. You wish my mom had been at that café table. Not me."
"That is not true."
Tears streamed down my face now, and the emotion caught in my throat tapered my voice into a whisper. "Dios mio, if you're going to lie to my face, at least do a better job than that."
His lips tightened and he spun around, facing away from me.
"Tell me the truth." I swiped my hands over my face, wiped them on my jeans. "Admit you wish it had been her."
"Yes," he said.
Once, back when I was still allowed to go to school, I got accidentally kicked in the stomach while playing soccer during P.E. The feeling I had now was a lot like that. It was one thing to believe something awful was true, it was another thing to hear it from the source.
Abuelo didn't turn around, wouldn't look at me, as he spoke. "Do I wish that my daughter had been in the café that day? Do I wish she was still alive? Yes, I do. Every damn day."
I felt heavy. All noise, outside of his voice, had amplified to an abnormal level until his words were nothing but a distant echo. My chest hurt and my lungs had trouble drawing in deep breaths.
The floor rumbled beneath me.
More stupid tears welled up in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. I missed Dad so much in that moment, I would have risked running through an unstable ripper for a hug from him.
The picture frames on the walls rattled. Abuelo turned to me, his brown eyes wide and alert.
"Maria, you need to calm down." He said this in the voice people use when they think they might be dealing with an unstable person. "Control it."
"The only thing I was taught about my ability was that it was something to hate and fear. That it was best kept hidden away, a shameful secret." I hugged myself since Dad wasn't there to do it. "One day the agency popped up on the road behind us. No warning, no hint that they'd been following us that closely. They tried to run us off the road. I reached for my ability and I used it to save us, but I couldn't control it. I'd never been taught." I stared down at my feet as shame poured over me. "I made this huge hole, this chasm in the highway, and the people chasing us drove straight into it. So did the people behind them. And the people behind them, and so on, until thirteen cars had crashed into the hole I made. Innocent people. Elderly people. Families. Children."
Speaking softly, Abuelo said, "Take a breath, Maria. Cálmate."
But I couldn't calm myself. I was too angry and sad and frustrated.
"Cálmate," he said again, as if repeating it would help.
"The worst part was, we couldn't stop and help. We had to keep moving, had to use this terrible accident I had caused to get away. You know my father was a police officer. Do you know what it did to him, having to turn his back on all those hurt people?"
The rumbling intensified. The vibrations rattled my feet inside my shoes.
"He was ashamed of me. I was ashamed of me. He begged me to promise not to use my ability in that way again, and you know what? I couldn't even give him that, because I didn't know how I did it in the first place. What Samuel Bekker has taught me is the closest I've ever come to understanding how this all works." I sucked in a trembling breath. "And here you stand, with all the answers I need, and all you can do is tell me, ‘Rippers are dangerous, Maria. Don't go near them.'"
The house creaked and moaned and popped. In the kitchen, dishes tumbled out of the cabinets and crashed onto the floor. Behind me, three framed photos shook off the wall. I glanced over to see what I'd done, and one of the photos caught my eye. It was a picture of my grandparents and my mother, when she was my age.
They all looked so happy.
The floor jerked and a wood-splintering crack came from somewhere in the house. The window in the dining room made a humming sound I'd never heard before. It was the glass. It was shivering like a leaf in a windstorm.
"Maria, you must calm yourself. That window is going to—"
"Emilio? Maria? Is everything—"
Abuelo swiveled toward the sound of his husband's voice. "Hollister, get out of—"
The window shattered. My grandpa hit the floor as bullet-sized shards of glass shot at him. The towel he'd been carrying fell into a pitiful pile beside his splayed-out body.
"Grandpa Holli."
The rumbling stopped. I couldn't move. Couldn't speak beyond the whispered cry of his name.
Abuelo Emilio rushed to his side. "Amor? Mi amor, talk to me."
Grandpa Holli groaned, then said, "Ouch."
Swiping the towel from the floor, Abuelo gently dusted glass off his husband's head and helped him to his feet. Blood poured down the side of Grandpa Holli's face and drizzled to the floor below, reminding me of the water droplets dripping from Abuelo's coat earlier.
Grandpa Holli swiped at them with the towel. His gaze landed on me, then skittered away. For a split second, I saw fear in his eyes. My grandpa was afraid.
Of me.
My breathing burst out in harsh, fast puffs. Stars shimmered, then exploded in the corners of my vision.
"Maria, are you—"
Abuelo cut Grandpa Holli off. "Look at what you've done."
"Emilio, I'm sure she didn't mean to—"
"I told you to calm yourself." His stony gaze locked with mine.
I backed away from them, shook my head. "I-I'm sorry."
Toby ran inside through the doggy door Grandpa Holli had installed the first week we arrived. He huddled under the table, ears back, tail between his legs. He looked more frightened than he had when the limpid worm had tried to eat him.
Frightened. Of me.
Glass crunched under my sneakers as I backed myself against the wall where the photo of my mom and her dads had once hung. A nail dug into my shoulder. I barely felt the sting.
I'd hurt Grandpa Holli and terrified Toby. Infuriated Abuelo Emilio. There was no place for me in Dead End. There never had been.
My thoughts spiraled like the whirlpool I'd created during swimming practice the day I'd hung on by my fingertips to escape death. I should have just let go that day. If I had, there never would have been a hole in the road and all those people wouldn't have gotten hurt. Dad wouldn't have a reason to be ashamed of me. Grandpa Holli wouldn't be bleeding. Both he and Abuelo would still believe Mom was alive. They would, in a way, still have their daughter.
No one would have been hurt if I had just let go.
"I'm so sorry."
I ran to the bathroom and threw up.
27
When I got out of the bathroom, my grandpas were gone.
Toby was outside the door, waiting for me. His scruffy ears were peaked, his short tail was wagging. I picked him up, hugged him to me.
"Sorry, Toby." I wiped my tears on his fur. "Sorry I scared you."
I carried him into my room, set him on the bed, and dug my backpack out of the closet. I wadded up the clothes I'd brought, less the jeans buried in the back yard, leaving the things my grandpas had bought for me.
"Don't be sad, okay? Remember how much I love you." I zipped up the stuffed backpack and grabbed the smaller one. Shoved my makeup into it, except for the prismatic black nail polish. That was going to Cindy. I'd leave a note and ask Grandpa Holli to make sure she got it. Surely he wasn't so angry with me that he'd take it out on her.
My dog sniffed my backpack and whined, and I picked him up again. "Crossing through a ripper is dangerous, Toby. Leaving you is the last thing I want to do." Dad's words on the other side of the One Way Café came back to haunt me. "It's the last thing I want to do, but it's the only way to keep you safe."
After I packed, I cleaned. I'd just finished picking up the broken dishes in the kitchen, and was in the living room sweeping up window
glass, when Aedan showed up.
"Whoa, what the hell happened here? Is that blood?"
"Go away."
"Are you bleeding?" He popped up in front of me, frowning. "Not you. One of your grandpas, then?"
Ignoring him, I swept the glass into the dustpan and carried it to the trash. Grabbed a cleaning rag and some herbal cleanser Grandpa Holli bought from Cindy's mom, and mopped up the blood. I set the photos on the table. Picked the broken glass from the frames.
When the room was as clean as I could get it, I tossed Toby one of the organic dog cookies Grandpa Holli had made him, and gave him a teary kiss on his head. Then I slung my backpack over my shoulder, wiped my face with the back of my hand, and walked out.
The air outside was that stagnant, gummy sort of hot only the desert can provide. It made me feel boxed in, for some reason. Trapped.
"Why won't you talk to me?" Aedan asked.
I slammed on my brakes, spun to face him. "How are you still here?"
"I'm attached to you. Anywhere you go, I can go, too."
"Could you make that sound any creepier?"
He grinned. "I could do it in a dirty-old-man voice if you think that might help."
"Not sure it would make a difference. Aedan, go away. I can't deal with you right now."
"Tell me what you're doing, and I will." His eyes narrowed. "You aren't moving in with that Samuel dude, are you? Because no. That's really not going to work for me."
I considered telling him yes, and that Samuel and I were sleeping together, but he'd only spin it as me trying to make him jealous … and I'd never been good at mind games, anyway.
"No, I'm not moving in with Samuel. I'm leaving Dead End. I've been causing a lot of trouble around here."
"You? Hard to believe."
"I'd say sarcasm doesn't become you, Aedan, but it actually does. Your face was created to express irony and contempt."
"I love it when you insult me with your honors English vocabulary. Keep talking to me, Maria." He tilted his head and showed me that handsome, irresistible grin, and I did that stupid thing again. I started telling him everything.
"Aedan, I screwed up b-bad." My voice snagged on the last word. "I'm bad."
