The Culling (Book 2): The Hollow:

by Bell, A. C.

  With winter in swing, it was cold outside. This drove the families who normally played putt-putt or visited parks or whatever to indoor places like bowling alleys. The place was packed with kids when I arrived. Fortunately, when the place is busy work tends to fly by. I was even feeling pretty calm when I returned from my lunch break until I spotted a familiar figure standing by the shoe counter.

  Ben De la Cruz, Peter’s younger brother, glowered at me as I resumed my post. A sinking feeling stripped my spirits at his appearance. His black hair was flat from unwashed grease and black scruffy stubble shadowed the lower half of his tawny beige face. It had been a long time since I’d seen him. His grief made him look ages older than sixteen.

  “Ben,” I greeted nervously. I tucked my hair behind my ear, reluctant to meet his eye.

  “He shouldn’t have helped you.” The young man’s voice and hands were shaking with barely controlled anger.

  As a canisapian—a breed of werewolf—like his brother, and a young developing one at that, letting him get angry would probably be bad. I opened my mouth but didn’t have any words to argue with him so I frowned down at the desk. I’d been telling myself the same thing for weeks. The strings at the end of the grey scarf I’d worn sufficed as a good way not to look at him. He slammed a palm on the counter and I jumped.

  “Look at me!” he barked. I set my jaw and met his dark brown eyes. “Why should he have risked his life for you?”

  “Because he’s my friend! I would have done the same for him.”

  Ben’s lips pinched and his nostrils flared. “You toyed with him. Used whatever queer ability you get from being a dhampir to keep him under your thumb.”

  “You really think I would do that?”

  “There’s a reason people hate you dhampirs.”

  The bitterness and prejudice in his words flared my anger back up to a boil. I slammed my hand down on his the way he had the counter and gripped his wrist tight, yanking him forward. His chest struck the edge of the counter and he tried to pull away but realized I was stronger than he was. His eyes widened. I leaned in closer.

  “Manipulating people isn’t my ability.” I snarled venomously.

  “Parker!” Both of our attentions jolted to the office door in the corner of the room where my boss stood with his arms tightly crossed over his chest. His mouth was set in a deep scowl beneath his black goatee. “Get in here.”

  I released Ben’s hand and stomped from behind the counter. “Just go home,” I told Ben over my shoulder. I knew what was awaiting me in that office.

  ***

  How would I tell Mom and Nikki that I’d been fired? Not once had I ever been fired from a job. Mom wouldn’t be home for a while still, so after I pulled up to the house, I decided to walk over to Nikki’s place. Taking the time to walk the three blocks meant more procrastination before I had to tell her. I zipped up my royal blue pleather jacket, which Nikki had bought me for my birthday several months ago. With it closed, I could feel the collapsible baton I kept in the inside pocket press into my ribs. Cold air nipped at my face, but the walk allowed me to clear my head and I stared down at the frozen snow crunching beneath my shoes.

  As I walked up the walkway to her house, I could vaguely hear two men arguing inside. Hesitantly, I knocked on the door. A few moments later Nikki’s stepfather, Rick, pulled it open. His brows were scrunched irritably, deeply indenting the lines on his forehead, but when he saw me his sable eyes lightened.

  “Adeline, please come in. Nikki is upstairs,” he said.

  I nodded and uncomfortably stepped inside. Another man was in the living room standing by the couch. His features were sharp and his nose curved slightly down like a beak. He was somewhere in his mid-forties and the wrinkles around his eyes suggested someone who often worked long hours and never got enough sleep. His dark beard was close-cut and neat just as his hair and his hazel eyes held the analytical precision of a hawk. His thin lips pursed in anger at my entrance and flicked to Rick.

  “Really, Richard, you called company over to encourage me to leave?”

  Rick stood at my side and crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest. “I called no one and you are leaving. Nikki doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “You don’t get to make that decision.”

  “No, I don’t. She made it when she went to her room to get away from you. Adeline, can you go make sure she’s alright?” he asked.

  I nodded and passed through the living room to the stairwell. They continued to argue as I hopped up the stairs.

  “I have a right to see her,” the man demanded.

  “Not until she wants to see you. Don’t make me call the police, Marcus.” Their choice of words had all but confirmed who this man was. I hurried down the upstairs hall to Nikki’s room and quietly rapped on the door. My heart was pounding. How was Nikki?

  “Nikki, it’s me.”

  “Adeline?”

  It sounded like her nose was stuffed up from crying. When she didn’t ask me to leave, I opened the door. She was sitting in a huddle on her bed with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her face was red and her hazel eyes glistened with tears that she now wiped away with her sleeves. She raked her fingers through her flaxen hair and nestled her chin in the crevice of her knees. I shut the door behind me and walked timidly to the bed to sit beside her, pulling off my shoes with my toes so I wouldn’t sully the plum-colored bed cover.

  When I couldn’t think of a considerate way to ask my question, I bluntly asked, “Is that your father?”

  New tears rolled down her cheeks and she nodded. “What’s he thinking, coming back after all this time? I’ve never even seen a picture of him! And now out of nowhere he shows up and says he’s saved up money for me as if he can buy his way back into my life.”

  “I can kick him really hard in the shin if you want me to.”

  Laughter bubbled out of her and it seemed to improve her mood a fraction. “Did Dad call you?” She asked.

  “No, I actually came over with news, but it’s okay.”

  “Go ahead. I could use the distraction.”

  With my legs propped up like hers, I wove my arms under my knees and rested my cheek on my kneecap. “Well, first, Raiden got hurt by a pair of creatures up at my dad’s cabin, so don’t go up there.” I knew she did, too. I’d seen the narrow tracks of her royal blue Ford Fiesta in front of the cabin several times. I debated telling her what Raiden had done but thought it best to wait until I talked to Raiden again. It wasn’t my secret to tell.

  Concern etched a deep line between her brows. “Is Raiden okay?”

  “I think so. I hope so. Hemway is working his magic.”

  “And you mean that literally.” She shook her head to dust out the disbelief.

  “I know,” I said with exaggerated exasperation as I bonked my forehead against my knee several times. Nikki laughed. We were both still adjusting to the existence of the supernatural, having only been introduced to it the previous semester. “I also, um…I just got fired.”

  “What?” she asked. My face must have betrayed my discomfort because her brows furrowed deeper. “What happened?”

  “Ben showed up to talk. It escalated more than I meant it to.”

  “Are you still having trouble with your temper?” She asked.

  I stared down at the pink swirls in the dark comforter and nodded. Nikki was the only person I’d been brave enough to tell. She wrapped an arm around me and rested her head against mine.

  “It was a stupid job, anyway. I won’t miss it.”

  “Maybe you could fall back on a career as Sonny Sizzle?” She teased.

  I broke into laughter. Sonny Sizzle was a joke stripper name Peter had come up with for me after I’d dubbed him Hunter Silverbuns. Nikki and I both shook with laughter.

  Markus

  I was feeling better on my walk home. Nikki had suggested that I spend the night at her place, but I would have to give Mom my news sooner or later. I kept my hands in the pockets of
my jacket and dawdled down the sidewalk, idly kicking small rocks with the toes of my tattered sneakers as I passed them. My breath created a plume of fog with each exhalation and I felt my nose and cheeks turning pink as the winter air nibbled at them. The moon, only a sliver, lit the world in a gentle blue light. The shadows of leafless sugar maples, hickories, and walnut trees danced eerily in the cold breeze.

  A flash of movement flicked past in my peripheral. I paused to look around, not naive enough to believe it had been my imagination. My surroundings remained still as the culprit stayed out of sight. But eyes watched me, I could feel it. I drew a deep breath into my lungs. He wouldn’t come out until I moved on, so I did. My nerves tensed as I waited. Nothing happened.

  As I crossed the street onto my block, I passed a dark Jaguar F-Pace SUV parked by the curb. There was no way it belonged to someone who lived here. With the threat of hale in the forecast, they would have parked a roughly $60,000 vehicle in a garage. The windows were too darkly tinted for confirmation, but I came to the conclusion that someone was inside just in time for the driver's side door to pop open.

  Marcus Alden climbed out, his hazel eyes pleading for my help. “Rick called you Adeline, right?” he asked.

  Alone with him on a dark street, I realized how tall he was, but somehow it didn’t make him intimidating. Despite his upscale wardrobe, there was a soft-spoken look to him. He looked like the sort of person who would let a complete stranger move up in line while getting his morning coffee just because they looked tired or like they were having a bad day. He definitely didn’t look like someone who would walk out on his pregnant girlfriend. And yet, here we were.

  “Why did you park all the way over here?” I asked. He glanced away and irritation heated my face. “You saw her dad’s old sedan and didn’t want them to see what kind of car you drive.” His silence confirmed my theory. “He’s not poor, you know. They have a nice house and he supports Nikki through college and uses most of his money to take care of his sick wife. And even if he was gutter poor, Nikki wouldn’t have cared. Because he’s been there for her and you haven’t.”

  A muscle in Marcus’s jaw tightened at my tone. He wanted to speak but didn’t. I scoffed in disgust and veered around him

  “Wait, please,” he said trailing after me.

  “I have nothing to say that you would want to hear.”

  “Anna threatened to terminate the baby if I didn’t leave.”

  I halted and took in a sharp breath. “What?” There was a desperate glint in his eyes when I faced him again, pleading for me to listen. Now that I had stopped trying to escape, he took a step back to give me space. “Why would she do something like that?”

  A ghost of a memory saddened Marcus’s eyes, an ocean roiling with old hurts that wanted to be forgotten but could never truly sink out of view no matter how much time and water washed over it. “We weren’t even together very long, but oh how I loved her. I was even going to ask her to marry me. But her condition began to manifest before I worked up the nerve. She got suspicious about little things. Came to conclusions that didn’t make sense. When she told me she was pregnant, I finally asked her, but...” His voice fell to a whisper and I had to strain to hear him over the breeze rustling through the barren trees. He kept his gaze on the sidewalk. “All at once, she couldn’t even look at me.” A part of him still loved Anna and ached for what he had lost. I could see that much and it was painful to look at. But for Nikki’s sake, I just couldn’t excuse his absence.

  “What about after Nikki was born? Why not come to meet her sooner?”

  “It’s more complicated than that. I’ve always believed it was better both for her and for her mother that I stay away.”

  I lifted my eyebrows in disbelief. “Complicated? Alright, then think about this. My dad died when I was six. When I hit puberty, my mom gave me a letter he wrote when I started Kindergarten to prepare himself for talking to me about boys. He used to draw pictures of Mom and me all the time, even vague ones of what he thought I might look like when I was older. He recorded video letters for both me and my mom just in case the worst happened and his job took him from us. I’ve heard more from my dead father in the past fourteen years than Nikki has from you. You can try to convince yourself that it was for the best or that there wasn’t a way to make it work, but I think we both know better. Your absence didn’t do anyone any favors. Not Nikki, not her mom, and not you.”

  Marcus exhaled, his lips pinching into a defeated frown. “I know,” he agreed. “But I don’t know how to fix it.”

  His expression was so pitiful, so heartbroken. The anger sapped from my chest. When I didn’t speak, he resigned back to his car. I stood unable to move as the tail lights bathed the dark asphalt in red light and he drove off. Forgiving deep-rooted slights had never been something I was good at, whether the slight was against myself or someone else. My chest ached as I tried to push past my bias. I couldn’t understand why he had waited so long, but he was trying to reconnect with Nikki. Perhaps I should talk to her on his behalf.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose, reminding me that I was still not alone. I continued on to my house, waiting for my stalker to reveal himself, but I reached my driveway safely. As was apparently becoming my reaction to everything, irritation bubbled in my chest. The coward.

  Mom had forgotten to bring the trash can back up the drive when she got home, so I grabbed the handle and yanked it with me, but as I turned to stomp up the driveway, I found a large black wolf slinking from the bushes to cut me off. A canisapian—usually shortened to canisi for ease of speech—retains their body mass when they transform. At 5’10’’ and roughly 150 pounds, Ben made a big wolf.

  “Took you long enough,” I snapped.

  Ben snarled, revealing large white teeth against the backdrop of his dark fur. I glowered at him but reminded myself that this was Peter’s brother. Even if he did want to fight, I didn’t.

  “You don’t need to do this,” I insisted. He started to snarl louder and took a threatening step toward me. “Stop.”

  He didn’t. As soon as he lunged, I threw the lid off the trash can and held it up into his path so that Ben landed inside. It made a loud clatter as it rolled down the driveway with him. Since my car was turn-key instead of automatic, I knew I wouldn’t be able to get it open in time. I pulled the expandable baton from my jacket in case I didn’t make it to safety before he caught up and ran for the front door. I didn’t want to hurt him if I didn’t have to. My heart pounded. I could hear the scratching of claws on the concrete behind me and then the thudding of paws in the dirt. I wouldn’t make to the door.

  Just in time, I veered left to avoid his tackle. Unfortunately, he redirected just as fluidly the moment he landed. His snarls were loud as he barreled down on me. I struck his face with the baton and he gave a loud yelp. I only vaguely heard the front door open. I definitely heard the deep, powerful, BAM! of the shotgun blast. Ben scrambled away from the impact point in the yard. He sneezed at the cloud of dirt the buckshot sent into the air.

  Mom’s pump-action shotgun made a satisfying chck chck! when she cocked it. She leveled the barrel on him and he backed away. “Adeline, get in the house,” she said.

  I hurried to the stoop and stepped behind her, but didn’t go inside. Ben was hunkered to the ground, his ears pinned back sadly and averting his gaze. Only when he turned tail and ran did Mom lower the shotgun and usher me into the house. Mom turned on the living room light, illuminating the scowl on her face. She set the shotgun on the cream-colored sofa. Her powder blue robe contrasted pleasantly with her tawny brown skin, which I'd inherited except that mine was a few shades lighter due to Dad's pale complexion.

  “Who was that?” She asked.

  “I can’t.” I turned up the stairs and hurried to my room.

  “Adeline, please,” I heard her call after me.

  I shut my door to shut the world out. My breathing became wheezy as I strained not to cry. I backed away from the door and
sat on my bed. Of the pictures hung up on the wall, one of them depicted Peter and me standing in front of a tennis court in our Senior year of high school. The same tennis court where I’d met him as a Freshman.

  ***

  Julie scrambled for the ball I sent past her left but wasn’t fast enough. An ace. She braced her hands on her knees, breathing heavily. “I think I’m done,” she rasped, brushing the loose strands of her brown hair out of her face.

  “Are you sure?” I asked. She nodded and I tried not to look disappointed. “Alright, well, good game!”

  She scoffed. “In what universe is losing 8 to 22 a good game?” As she turned to scoop up her equipment back at the side of the court, I heard her mutter, “I can’t believe I lost to a Freshman.” She yanked the hair tie from her hair in frustration and stalked from the court. Maybe I should have been offended at her tone, but I couldn’t stop grinning. I bounced victoriously over to my own bag for my water bottle and dumped the remainder of its contents down my throat.

  "I'll play."

  I lowered my water bottle to look at the boy who had spoken. As he looped his fingers in the chain links of the fence in front of me, a broad grin stretched across his warm tawny face, speckled here and there with acne. I'd seen him before. He was a sophomore if I remembered right. His dark brown eyes were brimming with amusement. His grey jeans were ripped up and his tattered black converse would make running around the court more difficult. He and his friends had been watching Julie and I play, which I had ignored. His friends were over near the big cedar tree, laughing about something. I narrowed my eyes at the boy.