When I was four, I’d learned not to ever, ever wake anyone else up.
By five forty-five in the morning, I’d had all the nighttime I could take, and by six-fifteen, I was showered, dried, dressed, brushed, and scowling at the locked cafeteria door.
“I don’t serve breakfast until seven-thirty,” a voice said from behind me, and I turned to find a blue-eyed woman in khakis and a green button-down shirt. Around her neck hung an official laminate ID, reading Kate Greer. “Most of the girls aren’t even awake this early in the summer.”
“I’m not most of the girls.” But I was starving for actual food, now that my more exotic hunger had been temporarily satisfied.
“Then you must be Sabine,” Greer said, and I nodded. “Well, Sabine, how ’bout this—I’ll let you eat now, if you help me serve breakfast afterward.”
“Yeah, I guess.” First served, plus I wouldn’t have to pretend not to notice the others avoiding me.
“Great. That’ll fulfill your chore requirement for today, too. Follow me.” Greer pulled a pink coiled key chain from her pocket and unlocked the door, then led the way through the dining room into the kitchen, where the combined scents of bacon, butter, and syrup were enough to make my head swim.
“Why is the food ready, if you don’t serve it for another hour?” I asked, staring at the serving line, where steam rose from slits in aluminum foil covered buffet trays.
“Because I feed the day shift before their shift starts.”
“That’s really cool of you.” And probably not a requirement of her position.
“I don’t mind. Help yourself.” She pointed to a stack of plastic trays at one end of the serving line. So I did.
I scarfed pancakes, bacon, and juice while the day shift techs and staff members wandered in alone or in pairs.
None of them sat near me. A couple smiled—I’d seen them the day before—but when my gaze met theirs, they looked away and hurried past my table. My creepy factor was strongest after a good meal, and I’d fed well the night before.
Kate Greer was the only staff member so far who didn’t seem in a hurry to get rid of me. After I ate, she gave me an apron and a pair of tongs. “You do bacon and I’ll handle the pancakes. If they want seconds, they have to wait until everyone else has eaten. Got it?”
I nodded just as the first residents pushed through the double doors into the cafeteria. Twenty minutes later, when everyone had been served, Greer’s pile of pancakes had dwindled to a single stack of five, but my bacon tray was still full. I’d only served two girls. All the others had passed with one glance at me.
“That’s weird.” Greer frowned as I covered the full tray. “Bacon’s usually a hit. Now what am I going to do with all this?”
I had no answer, so I hung up my apron and crossed the cafeteria in silence, avoiding eye contact while I was still so warm and full—and obviously sending out creepy-vibes—from BethAnne’s nightmare.
It wouldn’t take long for Greer to notice that no one was eating whatever I was dishing out. I’d have to find a more solitary house chore and wait to eat with the general population, no matter how loud my impatient stomach complained.
At least the nighttime buffet is plentiful.
Or so I thought....
* * *
I spent most of my second day at Holser House alone in my room, avoiding people so they couldn’t avoid me. That night, I was still pretty full—or at least not starving—from BethAnne’s nightmare, so I decided not to feed, hoping people would find me a little less creepy the next day. It turns out solitude is a lot easier to deal with when foster parents are the only people trying to ignore you. Though I would never have admitted it, being alone in a house full of girls my own age...well, that kind of sucked.
And it made me miss Nash even more. He and his family were the only ones I’d ever met who didn’t mind me hanging around—probably because they weren’t human, either. Knowing why I was creepy had gone a long way toward helping them get over it.
Unfortunately, revealing my species to the rest of Holser wasn’t an option. But skipping one meal wouldn’t kill me, right? I’d gone longer than that plenty of times. So that night, while I waited to fall asleep on an empty stomach, I put in my earbuds and listened to the iPod David had given me.
David was generous with his money, but with every gift I accepted, I could feel myself slipping deeper into his debt. Someday he’d expect that debt to be balanced, and I’d have to decide how much I was willing to pay to stay near Nash. Assuming I hadn’t blown that for good by getting sent to Holser.
The next day was Saturday. Visiting day. From 10:00 a.m. on, there were strangers everywhere I turned. At least, that’s what it felt like, though once I started counting, I realized only about a dozen of the girls had company
I wasn’t one of them. Not that I’d expected to be. Jenny was pissed that I’d gotten arrested again—I felt bad about that; I actually liked her—and it wouldn’t look good for David to come see me without her.
So I decided to scout out a suitable meal for that night from among the girls who didn’t have visitors. I tried the common room first, but the only two girls there were talking to parents, one of whom had brought along a kid brother, evidently glued to a 3DS.
The cafeteria was the same, only worse. Several more fractured family units were spread out around different tables, alternately talking, arguing, and sitting in uncomfortable silence. Another point in favor of me not having a real family.
My only other option was the backyard. None of the visitors wanted to leave the air-conditioning for the broiling Texas heat, so all three picnic tables were occupied by Holser residents. The only one I knew by name was Sharise, who sat alone at the shaded end of a concrete picnic table.
I dropped onto the bench across from her. “Hey.”
Sharise looked up from a game of solitaire and met my gaze, unflinchingly. “Hey.”
She hadn’t picked up her cards and run—definitely a good sign. My growing hunger would make it harder for me to read her fear, but easier for her to tolerate my presence. “No company today?”
“Or any other day.” She flipped over a red five and stacked it on a black six. “No one left to come see me ’cept my sister, and she can’t drive yet. What about you?”
Had she just asked me a personal question? That was new. “Same. Minus the sister.”
Sharise nodded like she understood. “You in foster care?”
Wow. Two questions in a row. That was practically a conversation! “I was.” I shrugged, trying not to look shocked as I squinted into the blinding sun. “Not sure anymore.”
Jenny probably wouldn’t let David take me back. I was pretty sure she’d gone out of town that night to get away from me anyway, even if she didn’t really understand her own motivation. She hadn’t been sleeping very well lately—plagued with nightmares of one miscarriage after another, caused by the fear that she’d condemned her husband to a childless life. Well, caused by that, and by me.
What she didn’t know was that David’s worst fear was actually being saddled with an infant. He’d been having trouble sleeping lately, too....
“So, how long does this family love-fest last?” I asked, peering through the window at a family in the cafeteria.
“Till five. But everyone with enough privilege points gets to check out for dinner.”
Dinner out? Something told me I wouldn’t be so lucky. Fortunately, so far the food at Holser was much better than I’d expected.
I was oddly reluctant to end the unexpected conversation with Sharise—which would definitely happen once I touched her. But my other hunger had to be satisfied, too.
“Hey, you can use this two on that red three.” I leaned across the table and pulled a card from Sharise’s hand, letting my fingers brush hers in the process. I’d gotten very little from her before, but this time I got nothing. Not a single whiff of fear. Not even the brief spine chill I’d read from her the first time. All I felt from her
now was a thick, smoggy kind of peace and acceptance of her past crimes and her conscious decision to move past them.
Sharise stared at me like I’d just snatched a bite of food from her fork. “I got it.” She plucked the card from my hand and played it, then went on with her game without another glance in my direction. Pointedly ignoring me. I might not have creeped her out, but my interference in her Solitaire game was definitely unwelcome.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, then stood and wandered away from her table, as confused by her complete lack of fear as I was disappointed to have lost her company. Sharise seemed cool enough; she was certainly nicer than anyone else I’d met at Holser. But making friends—if that was even possible for me—would have been like getting to know my hamburger right before lunch.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
Across the yard, a girl I didn’t know sat on another concrete bench, while a second girl perched on the table behind her, braiding long strands of the first girl’s hair. I accidentally-on-purpose bumped their table as I passed and knocked a bag of tiny, neon-colored rubber bands to the ground.
“Sorry.” I knelt to pick them up, and when I handed them to the girl on the bench, our hands touched. I looked into her eyes and felt...nothing. No fear. I saw only patience and a weathered acceptance of Holser House and the part it played in her rehabilitation.
Really? Patience? Acceptance? And no fear?
“What’s your problem?” the girl asked, without any real venom, and that’s when I realized I was frowning at her, still holding the bag of rubber bands while she tried to pull them from my grip.
“Sorry,” I said, for the second time in as many minutes, backing away from the table and into the shade of one of the few trees on the property.
I might not be the poster child for normalcy, but I’d looked into the eyes of at least a hundred girls my own age in the past couple of years and had seen fears ranging in severity from the stereotypical dread of being dumped in public to the shy, quiet girl’s terror that her brother would lose his temper again and beat her to death in her own room. I’d also felt all kinds of accompanying paranoia, insecurity, and rage. But I’d rarely ever felt simple, overwhelming patience and acceptance from a normal teenage girl. Much less two in a row. Two parolees, who should—logically—have even more to fear and resent than your average high school girls.
In fact, the only time I’d ever felt anything like what I was getting from Sharise and the other girl was when...
“Sabine?”
I glanced up to see a tech I didn’t recognize holding a clipboard and squinting out at the yard from the doorway.
“Yeah?”
“Your brother’s here to see you. He’s in the common room.” Then she stepped back inside and let the door slam shut behind her.
Brother? Then I smiled. Nash...
Sharise raised one brow at me as I pulled open the back door, but I only shrugged. She knew I had no family, but she wouldn’t tell anyone. She was feeling too peaceful to start any trouble. I happened to know that for a fact.
It took all of my dwindling self-control not to race down the hall, but I didn’t want to look too eager in front of the rest of Holser. I mean, how happy would a girl really be to see her own brother?
I stopped in the common-room doorway, and there he was. He turned when he heard my footsteps, and his hazel eyes lit up, while one side of his mouth curled into a half smile. “Hey, sis.”
I almost laughed out loud. My relationship to Nash could in no way be described as sisterly. I made myself take the next few steps one at a time and merely wrap my arms around him, instead of running to jump into his arms. I practically itched to touch him, after a week with no contact.
He squeezed me tight, and whispered into my ear. “You don’t seem very happy to see your only brother.”
I whispered back, “I might be, if I had one.”
“I’m kind of glad you don’t. He probably wouldn’t like what I’m thinking about his sister right now.”
I grinned as he let me go, then glanced around to find the two separate groups of visitors watching us curiously. “Come on.” I started to grab Nash’s hand, then stopped myself and tugged on his shirt sleeve instead. I wasn’t sure whether we were allowed to have visitors in our rooms, but I was certain that if we got caught, no one at Holser would ever mistake Nash for my brother again.
Still, a few minutes alone with him would be worth the risk.
From my room, I glanced up and down the hall to make sure no one was looking, then closed the door and turned to face Nash. He was there in an instant, in my arms again for a real greeting this time. “Damn, I missed you. School sucks when you’re gone.”
I grinned and pulled him closer. “School sucks anyway.”
“Well, it’s worse now.” He kissed me like I was the only source of oxygen in the room—like he’d die without me—and something in my chest ached so fiercely I thought my lungs would pop. I hadn’t felt right since I’d last tasted him five days ago, four hours before the cops picked me up outside the mall, drunk and very, very disorderly.
And I wouldn’t feel right again once he left. I never felt right without Nash. He was the only person in the world who wasn’t afraid of me, or repulsed by what he saw in my eyes. He wanted me, even knowing what I was. Even knowing what I had to do to survive. He loved me.
And I loved him more than I had ever, in my entire life, loved a single living soul.
When I finally pulled back—more for lack of air than anything else—Nash grinned at me, but didn’t let go. “So, I guess you think you’re badass now, huh? An ex-con parole violator?”
“Whatever. I probably would have gotten probation again, if I hadn’t broken that girl’s jaw while I was waiting for my court date in juvenile detention.”
His brows rose, but he didn’t look truly surprised. “You broke somebody’s jaw?”
I shrugged. “She had it coming.”
“You should join the football team,” he said, and I laughed.
“You just wanna tackle me.”
His gaze smoldered. “We don’t need pads and helmets for that.”
I sighed. “No, but we might need a door that actually locks. Speaking of security measures, how’d you get in here, brother?”
He smiled and sank into the only chair in the room. “I have a way with words.”
“The understatement of the millennium...” I straddled him in the chair and stared down into his eyes, trying to convince myself that he was real. That he was actually there, in the flesh, beneath me. If I could have a dream, that would be it. “So, what? You just showed up at the door and Influenced your way in?”
“Nah.” His grin deepened. “I called first and got myself put on your approved visitors list. Then I showed up at the door...”
“Your Influence works over the phone?” Nash was a bean sidhe—or banshee, to the uninitiated—the little known male of the species. Female bean sidhes were more famous in folklore, because of the girlie, nerve-shredding screech they let loose when they sensed that someone was near death, but the male bean sidhe’s ability is actually much more powerful. And convenient. With nothing more than the sweet, seductive sound of his voice—his Influence—Nash could convince just about anyone to do just about anything. The best part? They thought they actually wanted to do whatever he talked them into. It was like hypnosis, only better.
Unfortunately, the effect wore off almost as soon as he stopped talking. So if we were caught, he could probably talk us out of serious trouble for the moment, but later, I’d no doubt get written up and lose some privileges.
But Nash was still worth it.
“Apparently. Tod didn’t think it would work over the phone, but I never pass up a chance to prove him wrong.”
“He knows where you are? Is he gonna tell your mom?” It was a good hour’s drive from Nash’s house to Holser, and he’d only had his license for a month.
“Nah, but he’ll probably use it against
me next time he wants to get out of mowing the lawn.”
He smiled and ran his hands up my sides, but I pushed them back down reluctantly. “We’ll only have a few minutes alone.”
He scowled. “This place does suck. At least the eating’s probably...plentiful though, right?”
I frowned. “More like pitiful, today, anyway.”
“What does that mean?”
I climbed off his lap and sat on the edge of the bed to get comfortable. “Thursday night, I visited the girl next door—who is screwed up beyond belief, FYI—and had a pretty heavy meal. Last night, I abstained. But then today, I was looking for something appetizing outside right before you got here, and I found...nothing.”
“Nothing good?”
“Nothing at all. No fear, no panic, not even a taste of chronic discomfort. They’re all...content.”
“Wait, all of them?” Nash scooted the chair forward until his knees hit the mattress between mine.
I shrugged. “The two I tried, anyway.”
“Well, that’s hardly the entire population. Still, what are the chances of two in a row? This is a halfway house, not a birthday party. If the residents were shiny, happy people, they wouldn’t be here.” He caught my frown and amended. “Present company excluded.”
Yet we both knew I was neither shiny nor particularly happy, at least when he wasn’t around. “According to the director, I’m the only hardened criminal—most of the others are here for possession with intent or truancy. But yeah, there should be some major fear in here. Or at least regret or anger. But I’m getting nothing but peace and acceptance. It’s creepy.”
“Are you feeling okay? Getting enough sleep?” Nash asked. I rolled my eyes, and he shrugged. “Okay, any sleep?”
“Nash, I don’t think it’s me. I think it’s them. I think something’s wrong with them.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s just a hunch, but this place doesn’t feel right. I’ve been here for two-and-a-half days now, and haven’t heard a single person yell. No one’s arguing over chores, or showers, or food, or the phone. No one’s arguing about anything. They’re all just...getting along.”
Soul Screamers Volume Two Page 37
