The Hunted

by C.J. Hart

  Shocking. “Oh?”

  He nods, adding nothing more.

  “Okay. I guess it’s lasagna for one, then.” I squirt syrup onto my breakfast, and then cut a wedge.

  “Sorry.” He dithers for a moment. “Got called in at the last minute.”

  Sure, sure.

  “You’ll be all right?”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Okay, okay. Just be careful who you invite in.”

  I quirk an eyebrow. “Like Edward Cullen? Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be a real riot.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I nod, stern. But the group of be careful who you invite in folk includes my boyfriend and his best bud. As for the rest of them, I’ll happily keep them out.

  “Call Mr. Berty if you need help.”

  I try to imagine our fifty-five-year-old, five-foot-ten, snaggle-toothed, rotund neighbor coming to my aid. Not. Gonna. Happen.

  A little after seven, I drive to the Alder’s.

  Liam opens the door, dressed in cut-off jeans and a polo shirt. “Yeah?”

  I see we’re skipping pleasantries today. “Is Seb here?” Is he in one piece?

  He shakes his head. “Didn’t come home last night, apparently. Mom’s worked herself into a state.” He opens the door wider. “Wanna come in?”

  “No,” I say, his words ringing in my ears. Didn’t come home.

  He looks at me. “You okay? He probably just crashed at a mate’s place.”

  Kat. He’s with Kat?

  “Hey, by the way,” he says, “you should probably talk to Miley.”

  What would she know of his whereabouts? “About…?”

  “She looked as if she was completely freaking out when I got home last night.”

  When he doesn’t add anything else, I prompt him for more.

  Shrugging, he says, “I haven’t a clue what happened.”

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll go and find her. See you at school.” I trudge back to my Elantra and lock myself in. Is Seb safe? Alive? I wouldn’t even know how to find out.

  ***

  School passes at snail-speed. First math—eek!—then English. In art, we receive a project and I get paired with Tori. I slide back my chair, dragging my feet over to her table.

  “Yeah?” she says, not looking at me.

  “Looks like we’re working together.”

  “I heard him,” she snaps. “Doesn’t mean I give a crap what he says. Do what you want.”

  I begin to turn but pull out the chair next to her instead.

  Her glare is from the depths of Hades itself.

  “Can’t I sit?” I open my sketchpad. “It’s a free country.”

  “Whatever.”

  Joy.

  Mr. Jameson floats over to us, hands folded behind his back. “Have you ladies chosen a topic and medium?”

  “Charcoal. My cat,” I say.

  At the same time Tori says, “Clay. Vase.”

  Her head whips around. Her face is slathered with disgust and acerbity. “We are not drawing your effing cat.”

  “Ladies.” Mr. Jameson leans closer. “Since you have such divergent talents and tastes, I’ll let you pick your own.” He pauses, straightens. “But integrate them somehow.”

  Tori mumbles under her breath. I catch ingrate and sonofabitch.

  “There’s no use fighting him,” I say as I pick a piece of charcoal.

  “Shut up.”

  Charmer. What does Marcus see in her? Because she has a rich daddy and a fancy Porsche? That can’t be it, surely.

  I focus on sketching Lizzy, blocking out my acerbic friend. When the bell rings, I rush off to the cafeteria. Even though Tori will most likely follow, I figure her bitterness will be distilled between the usual group.

  But when I get there, the room’s empty. Just lonely chairs and tables. I try to make sense of it. It’s lunchtime—I double check my watch, yes—but where’re the kids? The cooks?

  My first thought is bomb scare! But it’s a different alarm for that. Same with all emergencies at Aeston High.

  Did they get abducted by aliens? I pivot and bump into a tall man. Mr. Jameson.

  His arms steady me. “Lunch has been cancelled.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Everyone has been sent home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of you, Cassie. You’re a monster.” Mr. Jameson’s features shift into Ash.

  ***

  Screaming, I wake with a start. I’ve fallen asleep in English.

  Marcus is prodding me. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  Classmates stare, smirking.

  Another thing to add to ‘Freak Lover’ and ‘Killer’. I straighten. “I’m awake.” Damn, I’m still in second period.

  “While you were out, Mrs. Browne gave us five essays on Austen. Due Monday.” He tries to hide a smirk.

  I snap to attention immediately. “What?”

  “Kidding, but you should see your face!” He guffaws.

  Whitney joins him. I glare at both of them, turning my attention to the whiteboard. There are blue scribbles of what I make out to be notes on a film.

  “We watched a very old version of Hamlet,” Marcus says. “You would’ve hated it.”

  I’m glad I slept through it, then. “Either of you take notes?” No sense in letting my perfect grades slip now.

  Whitney smiles and passes me his notebook.

  “Thanks.”

  The bell peals, and I fear art will live up to my nightmare. Work with Tori?

  “Just give it back at lunch.” Whitney swings the strap of his bag over his head.

  “Will do.” I pack my unopened notebook and slowly pick my way to art.

  But it’s worse than I’d dreamed. I’m late and all the seats are taken.

  Except for the one next to Tori.

  ***

  The first chance I get to talk to Miles is in history, and Liam is right—she does look freaked.

  “Hey.” I dump my bag on my usual desk next to hers.

  No response.

  “Hey, Miley.” I jab her shoulder with a finger.

  She jumps so far out of her seat that the edge of the desk tips up a bit. “Oh, h—hey Cass. Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

  I take my seat. “You okay?”

  Peering at me sideways, she mutters, “Have you ever witnessed something completely illogical and out there, and haven’t a clue what to say or do?”

  I’m not sure what she’s going on about, but I nod along anyway.

  “Well—last night, I,” she leans closer to me, her mouth at my ear, “I saw Seb change. Right in front of me.”

  A cord of panic loops around my stomach and throat. I swallow thickly. Why was Seb so careless to shift in front of a human?

  “Please tell me I’m not crazy,” she says, a wild glimmer in her eyes. “I know what I saw, but it’s impossible…” She leans closer again. “Those stories are actually real?”

  I’m lost for words. They’ve escaped on a life preserver and floated away without my permission. Buying myself more time to gather my thoughts, I check that no one is seated behind us yet. Nope.

  “Cass?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Tell me I’m not crazy.”

  “You’re not crazy.”

  Her words come out in a rush, rising in volume at the end. “Oh my God, your boyfriend really is skinwalker.”

  “Shh!”

  “Sorry.” She straightens her posture, looks at me again. The wildness in her eyes has dulled to pain. “Did he take Eve?”

  “No!”

  It’s her turn to shush me. “Okay. But if he didn’t, then who did? Do you know where she is?”

  I answer her questions until the teacher arrives, and then more at lunch in the cafeteria. We grab a table in the corner for ourselves, with a perimeter of empty tables around us. The freshmen are off on a field trip—to an art museum, I think. Not the best weather for it, but hey, it’s a mus
eum. Is there any type of weather that makes that trip better?

  Miley chugs half of her water, and then swipes the back of her hand over her mouth. “So this Ash guy, he’s really bad? He took her?”

  “Yep and yep.” I take a bite of my salad sandwich, chewing. “Seb’s okay, though? I haven’t heard from him.”

  “Oh. Yes, I think he’s fine. I wasn’t really in the right mental space to take notice. Sorry.”

  I shrug it off. He wouldn’t want me to worry. But one thing was bugging me. “Why did Liam say Seb didn’t go home last night?”

  “A cover—that’s what Sarah told everyone, even her husband. Less people to maintain lies, I guess.”

  As a sophomore girl passes our table, she slings two words over her shoulder. “Freak lover.”

  I’m so ready for this day to end.

  The remainder of lunchtime goes quickly, and before I know it, another school day is over.

  I trudge out into the rain, into the sea of umbrellas, across the lot to my car. A gent leans on the hood, towering over the students, biceps built for destruction and protection. His lips quirk upwards when he sees me. His hair is sticking out in clumps from under a gray beanie. My heart skips a beat. I drop my bag and run to him, his arms already extended for me.

  “Where have you been?” I hear myself say.

  Seb tightens his arms around my waist, brushing his lips across my forehead. “Sorry for running off last night.”

  “Oh, you know, you only gave Kat and me a heart attack.”

  He smiles. “Kat can’t have a heart attack. It’s a human disease.”

  “Oh, right.” I swipe at the drops of rain on my face. “I’m the only one that’s going to die of acute myocardial infarction.”

  “Got time for a milkshake?”

  “Absolutely.” I nod. “Then you’re gonna tell me what happened.”

  “I will.” He pushes off from the car and hooks a finger into the strap of my backpack. “Bit damp,” he teases.

  I laugh and throw it into the backseat.

  He catches me before I slide in, touching his lips to mine. “I missed you.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Instead of heading to Joe’s, Seb points me in the direction of a milkshake bar.

  “Thirty-seven flavors,” he says, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Wow. How will we choose?” I find an empty parking space and cut the engine.

  He lingers for a moment, staring out of the window.

  “Something up?” I say.

  “I’ve brought you into this twisted, revolting world of mine. Put you in the path of the most savage animal.”

  “I could’ve walked away. I chose not to. What does that say about me?” I wait for his answer.

  Instead, he hops out into the thundering rain and marches over to the shop. I lock the car and jog to catch up. I don’t see the puddle he splashes through until it’s too late. My black All Stars skid in the water, losing traction. My hands flail about. There’s nothing around to grab hold of. I feel the ground inching closer. My feet slide out from under me. I land hard on my ass, just outside the edge of the puddle.

  Seb’s head snaps around, and he spots me. “Jesus. What happened?” He rushes over.

  “You were walking too fast.” Spurs of pain radiate from my ankle, up my calf. I grit my teeth and swallow a groan. Blink back my tears

  He scoops me up, and sets me on my feet. I clutch a fistful of his shirt to steady myself as the pain intensifies.

  “Your ankle? Is it broken?”

  I shake my head. “Pretty sure it’s just a sprain.” I test it. The pain is bearable. “This’s why you’re supposed to be around, to keep saving my behind.”

  He chuckles. “Literally, this time.” He dusts gravel from my arms. “Ah. You’ve got a pretty mean graze back here. I’ll take you home.”

  I hop next to him, Seb taking most of my weight, and curse at puddles as we pass them.

  “Is your dad…?”

  “He’s out.”

  “Working?”

  “He was pretty vague, actually.” I tap the button on the key fob to unlock the door. “Man, I really wanted a shake.”

  He helps me into the passenger seat. “You have a blender?”

  “Yeah, doesn’t everyone?”

  “I’ll make you one at home, then. Sound okay?”

  “Yum,” I say, handing over the keys. “But we’ll have to stop for ice cream.”

  “Doable.”

  By the time we get home, I’m able to put weight on my ankle, and I hobble inside with Seb close behind.

  “You sure you’re okay?” He sets the tub of espresso ice cream on the counter.

  “Stop fussing.” I wave him away and sit at the table.

  “Where’s the magic milkshake machine?”

  “Blender’s in the corner cupboard.” I rifle through my bag, checking my books for water damage. The corners are a bit mushy. I take them out and fan them open, hoping they’ll air dry if I leave them out overnight.

  “How many scoops?”

  “As many as you think I can handle.”

  “Hm.” He thinks for a beat, and then begins scooping.

  A shiver tumbles down my spine, the cool air making my wet clothes freezing. I push myself up. “I’m just gonna go change into some warmer clothes before I catch my death. As Mom would say.”

  He nods. “Need help? Ah.” He pauses. “Getting upstairs, I mean.”

  I giggle. “Nah, I’ll be fine. I’ve climbed those stairs with worse injuries.”

  As I hobble out of the room, I hear the radio click on and a rock song fills the room. I listen to him sing along as I shuck off my clothes and drape them over a chair. He’s good; his voice smooth and rough in all the right places. What did Chad say? Can’t sing for his supper? He’s wrong.

  Should I jump in the shower? The warm water is tempting, the thought of it cascading over my chilled skin, banishing the cold from my body. Before I’ve logically made a decision, I’m grabbing a fresh towel from the closet and closing the bathroom door behind me, sprained ankle be damned. I get the water started and strip off my undergarments. Steam fills the tiny room, swathing me in warmth, and I step into the shower.

  Heaven.

  Standing under the stream for a moment, I let the water sweep away all the cold. I flinch as the water runs over my grazes. Forgot about them. Tilting my head back, I feel the droplets rain down on my face. I shampoo and condition my hair, soaping up my skin, and then watch the bubbles swirl around the drain.

  How long have I been in here? Two minutes? Five? I shut the water off and reach for my towel. Someone hands it to me. Their nails scrape against my arm, piercing my skin. I reel back in shock. Through the dissipating steam, I can make out long, dark hair, mocha skin, and—

  Crimson eyes.

  Do I scream? Where’s Seb?

  “Hi.” Ash sticks a finger into his mouth, tasting my blood, an evil smirk on his lips. “Mmm. Coffee and roses.”

  I feel my face and stomach scrunch in disgust as I wrap the towel around myself, pulling it tight. “Get out of my house, you sick sonofabitch.” Can Seb hear me?

  “Hm, no. We’re gonna have a little fun first.” He reaches for my towel.

  Seb’s voice floats in from downstairs. “Cass?”

  I guess he did.

  “I see the boyfriend’s home. Later.” He bounds into the hall, into my bedroom.

  I follow him, cool air nipping at me, and watch him leap from my open window, off the balcony.

  Seb charges up the stairs. “Cass? You okay?” He must see something in my face that tells him otherwise. “What—?”

  “He was here.” I secure the towel under my arm, hair still damp, and cross the room. When I slam the window down, the glass trembles. “Ash was here.”

  He examines my arm. Four welts glisten in the dimming light. “That’s it. I’m not leaving you alone for another moment.” He releases my hand.

  I f
lip the lock and tug the curtains closed. “Not even to get dressed?” I smirk. “That could be fun.”

  He snorts and turns his back towards me. “Baby, you’re not ready for that kinda fun with me.”

  “Cocky, much?”

  “Hurry. Your milkshake is waiting.”

  At the mention of my sugary treat, I hasten. I shove my arms into a long-sleeved shirt—careful to cinch the material above my scored flesh—and tug on a pair of sweatpants. “I’m decent.”

  He spins back, still smirking

  “What?”

  “You look like someone dunked you head-first into a puddle.”

  “Gee, thanks. Didn’t have time to blow-dry my hair while your brother,” my fingers curve in the air at the word brother, “was sucking my blood from his nails like some weird-assed vampire.”

  Seb twitches and turns away from me again.

  I feel my cynicism melt away as searing white-hot agony flashes through me. “I’m sorry.” I breathe in deep. “Dad says I strike out when I’m terrified.”

  He looks at me from the corners of his eyes. “You, scared?”

  “I know; it’s a rarity.” I manage a laugh.

  He crushes me to his side.

  “But Ash is…”

  “He’s a monster.”

  “Yes.” I reach up to touch my lips to his jaw. “Thank God you aren’t.”

  “C’mon.” He tows me behind, down the stairs and into the kitchen. With a flourish of his wrist, he presents me with an oversized shake and a packet of chocolate cookies. “Madam.”

  I slump into my usual chair. “Wow. Talk about getting the royal treatment.”

  “What can I say? I’ll do anything for my girl.”

  “Aww.”

  “You want me to wrap that ankle for you?”

  “Hm.” I twirl my left foot in a slow circle. Only a slight twinge of pain. “No, it seems okay. Sit down.” I pat the chair beside me.

  He does as told and gently swings my left foot onto his lap. “How was your day?”

  “Terrible.” I slurp some shake. It has the right ratio of creaminess to sweetness. “Actually, I fell asleep in second period.”

  “You did?”

  I nod. “Dreamed I was paired up with Tori in art.”

  “She’s the one dating that Marcus guy?”

  “Yep.”

  His eyes turn to my arm. “Let me bandage that?”

  “Fine. And then you can tell me why you shifted in front of Miley.”

  Groaning, he hunts around for the first aid kit. “I didn’t really have a choice. One second, I was a wolf, and the next, I was me again. I swear, curiosity is going to get you two killed.”

  I ignore his final comment. “Bathroom, under the sink.”

  He’s back with a bandage in less time it takes me to blink.