The Hunted

by C.J. Hart

  “I know.” Her face softens. “But I like baking. And it gives me something to do.”

  “You’re amazing, you know?”

  “Yep.” She smiles, fiddles with the dials on the oven, and then slides the pie base in.

  When she straightens, I wrap my arms around her waist. I’m lucky. I’m really lucky, aren’t I? She means everything to me, and I’ll miss not being around her thirteen hours a day. But I am happy that she’s worked things out with her father. I know I’ll probably never settle things with mine. We are not mirror images, like Brett said about her and her mother. We are polar opposites.

  She giggles. “What’s this for?”

  “Just because.”

  “Stealing hugs now?”

  I feel her melt in my arms. “Yup. That okay with you?”

  “Always.” She giggles again and starts swaying.

  “Dance?”

  “No music.”

  I reach over and switch on the radio. Blue October’s You Make Me Smile filters into the room.

  “How is it possible,” she says, “that the exact right song comes on at the exact right moment?” She touches her cheek to my shoulder.

  I lift her up, spinning her around. “I’ve always wondered that myself.”

  “Another mystery of the universe.”

  “It’s magic.”

  “Magic?” She snorts. “Maybe.”

  The song ends, and I place her back on her feet. She doesn’t let go. Neither do I.

  After a minute, she says, “I’d better make the filling.” She turns, but she isn’t quick enough.

  I catch her swiping her eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?” I seize her hand.

  She sniffles. “So much has changed.” She twists out of my hold. “I feel as if I’m waiting. Waiting for the next thing to shake my world, tear it apart.” She locates the tin of pie apples in the shopping bag and pulls on the tab. “When will my life settle back to normalcy?”

  “Oh, come on, Cass.” I smirk. “Was it ever normal to begin with?”

  She cracks a strained smile. “How do you know me so well?”

  I shrug. She’s an open book to me—every gesture, every twitch of her lips, every word she does and doesn’t say translates into something maybe only I can read. “I’m a quick learner.”

  “Sure.” She smiles, unconstrained this time. “You wanna learn something else, Einstein?”

  “Shoot.”

  On the floured countertop, her finger draws a shape. At first, I have no idea what it is. After a second, I realize, it’s a perfectly symmetrical heart filled with our initials: C.S + H.N

  “I already knew that,” I say.

  “Just making sure you did.” She scoops out the mushy apple pieces. “Wouldn’t want you to forget since we won’t be spending every waking moment together after tomorrow.”

  “Not likely.”

  “Good to know.”

  I hear the front door click shut.

  “Anyone home?” Mrs. Adler says.

  Cass calls out to her. “We’re in the kitchen, Sarah.”

  She wanders in, an amused smile in place. “What are you two doing in my office?”

  “Um, making a mess.” Cass measures out the sugar. “A delicious mess.”

  “She wanted to bake something as a thank-you.”

  Sarah’s gaze settles on Cass.

  “I fixed things with Dad. Moving back in tomorrow.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do anything to thank us,” she says. “You needed a place to stay and we didn’t think twice about it.”

  I turn down the volume on the radio so it’s just a whisper in the background. “That’s what I said.”

  “Yeah, well, I still wanted to make something.”

  To keep her hands busy until then, I finish the thought she wouldn’t say. She is nervous about going back. Scared her father will punish her? No. Terrified of losing someone else, someone more dear to her?

  Bingo.

  If my ex-pack is watching, what are they seeing? Us hanging out with this nice little family, our haven? Yes, their safety is a priority now, also. I’ve put them in danger, Cass too. Surely, I must’ve known this when Liam offered me a bed. But I didn’t know them, then, like I do now. They’re my family. They’ve shown more kindness towards me than mine ever have—my mother the only exception.

  Sarah smiles and hugs Cass. “You do what you must. I’m just going to grab a snack and get out of your way.” She releases her, opening the cupboard above the stove and pulling out a slab of chocolate. “I look forward to a slice tonight!” She flicks us a wave, and then traipses out of the room.

  The timer dings.

  Cass slides oven mitts onto her hands and hauls the piecrust out. “She’s in a particularly good mood. Her pottery class must’ve gone well.” She sets the dish on a wire rack to cool.

  “Hope they don’t plant a bomb in the kiln,” I tease.

  She stares at me, eyes glistening. “Why would you say something like that?”

  “Sorry. It was a joke, a very bad joke.” I hug her and clamp my eyes shut. Good job, Seb.

  She pulls away from me. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  “You sure? I could go outside and beat myself over the head with a stick.”

  “There’ll be no beating of heads,” Sarah says as she returns. “Wouldn’t want to kill those brain cells.” She pinches my cheek, and then grabs a mug from the stand and fills it with coffee.

  Cass chuckles as she spoons the mixture onto the crust.

  “More coffee, Cassie?” She lifts up the carafe.

  “Um, sure. Thanks.”

  I pick up her favorite kitty mug and hold it out.

  Sarah tops up the brown liquid. “Who would think that something this bad could be so addictive?” She takes a sip before vanishing again.

  ***

  The six of us decide on a special dinner—since it’s Cassie’s last night—and Kat joins us.

  “Five pizzas,” Jack says into the phone. “One supreme, two pepperoni, one Italian sausage, and one veggie without the cheese. Plus three garlic breads, two bottles of cola, and one of every dessert you have.” He listens for a moment, and then laughs. “No, not a party. I just have four starving guys and three ladies to feed!” He snickers. “Half an hour? Great!” He replaces the phone in its cradle.

  Pizza was Cass’ decision, and I couldn’t be more satisfied with her choice.

  “How about we try some of Cassie’s pie?” Sarah retrieves a knife. There’s uncertainty on her face. Probably because she doesn’t know whether her goddaughter is a good baker or a terrible one. She makes a cut, notices the knife glides through it effortlessly, and smiles, proud.

  Cass hops up. “I’ll slice the other one.” She drags the dish towards her. “Jess, I really hope it tastes okay. I tried my best.”

  Her lips tug upwards. “I’m sure it will.”

  Sarah slides pieces onto plates. “It’s the thought that counts.”

  That’s something like Mom would say. Growing up with the bare necessities sure makes you grateful for the little things in life.

  Cass cuts two pieces—one for Jess and one for herself. She often has such surges of courage—standing up to Ash, her father. Standing up for Liam at times when his opinions ruffle some feathers, and even myself. She really is amazing. One of a kind. A diamond in the rough.

  “Anyone want a scoop of ice cream? Custard?” Mrs. Adler covers the dish with plastic wrap.

  Liam and Kat ask for ice cream, the others—including myself—want custard.

  The night creeps on in a perfect symphony—the pies are outstanding, Cassie sparkles with fervor as Sarah boasts about them, music fills the home, and pizza is devoured. Too soon, it seems to end. Too soon, the morning comes and she’s packing.

  Got everything?” Seb says, zipping up my suitcase.

  My eyes scour the room. “I think so.”

  “If not, I can drop it off later.” His smile is tense.
/>   I tangle my fingers in his.

  He pulls me close. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’ll only be a street away. It’s not as if I’m time traveling to another century.”

  His lips twitch into a grin. “Too bad. Sounds fun.”

  I shove him, amused, and drag my suitcase off the mattress. “See you ’round, handsome.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

  “I can walk. I’ll be fine. Sarah gave me her pepper spray, and I have my spike-heeled boots on.” I lift my left leg to show him.

  “Ooh. Sure to do some damage.”

  “You make it sound as if Ash or some crim will attack me on the two-minute walk.”

  He shrugs. “It’s highly probable.”

  “You have to get ready for work.” I touch my lips to his, and then as if trying to reassure myself as well, I say, “I’ll be fine.” What could happen in two minutes?

  “Walk safe. And call me when you get home, okay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He nods but doesn’t look convinced.

  “What?”

  “Cass, I can’t let you go alone; I’d worry too much. It’s only gonna take thirty seconds to drop you off.”

  Well, when he says it like that…

  I heave a massive sigh. “Okay, fine.”

  ***

  I arrive home safely. I even manage to walk up the driveway without Seb being a helicopter boyfriend. No one attacked me or even looked at me funny. See, I would’ve been fine, I want to say to him, but knew how he would react. He waits until I’m inside before leaving.

  I take a moment to suck in the atmosphere. Home. Doesn’t feel the same.

  Dad’s not here. Work? A note sits on the coffee table, written in his familiar doctor scrawl: Got called in. I’ll be home for dinner.

  Super. I went from a full house to an empty one. It was a nice change to not be alone all the time.

  Lizzy purrs and tangles herself around my feet. Okay, so maybe I’m not totally alone.

  I pick her up and cradle her in my arms. “Miss me? No? Figures.” I set her on her feet, and she prances towards the kitchen. Following, I pick up the landline. I punch in his number and wait.

  After three rings, he picks up.

  “Hello?” Seb says.

  “Just letting you know I’m still alive, no dangers or monsters under my bed.”

  “It was a terrifying twenty seconds,” he jests.

  “I bet it was.”

  “What did your dad say?”

  “He’s not here. Got called into work apparently.” I eye the shiny, gold, rectangular box on the counter. Intrigued, I flip open the lid. He’s bought my favorite chocolates. I feel my heart swell with gratitude. How thoughtful. He’s trying hard to win me back, that’s for sure. I select one and sit at the table.

  Seb’s voice pierces my thoughts, “Cass, you still there?”

  “Yeah, sorry. Got distracted.”

  “What’s on your mind, honeybee?”

  I heave a sigh. “It’s so quiet here.”

  “Don’t tell me you miss us already?”

  “I might. I definitely miss you.” I reach for another chocolate.

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “I’m a little disappointed that you won’t have to sneak into my bedroom anymore.”

  “Me, too. But at least we won’t have to be so secretive now.”

  “True.”

  “I’ll let you go get settled in.”

  “Okay.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye.” I hang up and sit for a moment in the quiet.

  Try as I might, can my two lives ever be joined seamlessly?

  When I don’t come up with an answer, I push back my chair and return to my abandoned suitcase.

  Oh, screw it. Unpacking can wait. I need a nap.

  ***

  I awake with a start at the sound of the front door clunking shut. I await signs of movement—Dad’s clomping or Seb’s scuffing. Has something finally arrived to torture me? No, Ash is stealthy.

  Tap tap tap. Heels?

  “Cassie?”

  Miles.

  I ninja-roll out of bed. “I’m here.” I meet her in the living room.

  Her lips quirk up when she sees me. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced. Again. Seb told me you were here.”

  “No problem at all. What’s up?” I perch on the arm of the couch.

  “I don’t know if anyone has told you.” She sinks into an armchair. “Eve’s…” She dithers. “F—funeral is Saturday morning. Xay and I are going with Whitney, and we were wondering if you would like a ride.”

  Eve’s funeral. How could I forget such a thing? I’ve been so selfish this week, only thinking of Seb and myself, and how to make me feel better. Me me me. I’m such an idiot. “Can I get back to you?” Seb’ll want to be there for me.

  “There’s room for Seb as well. We’re taking Xay’s Merc.”

  “Okay.”

  “We were also wondering if you would write her a eulogy …?” Clearing her throat, she shifts in her seat. “You’re—you were—her best friend, after all.”

  “S—sure, I can do that.” I can’t do that! I know I’ll end up crying in front of everyone and making a fool of myself.

  “Okay, great.”

  Great. I exhale audibly. “Got time for a coffee?”

  She bobs her head and follows me to the kitchen.

  “Dad bought me those Belgian chocolates I like.”

  “Ooh. Can I pinch one?”

  “Help yourself.” I grab two mugs and the jar of espresso beans.

  “Thanks.” She leans against the counter and watches me grind the coffee to dust. “So, when’re you coming back to school? Marcus has been driving everyone nuts, asking about you.”

  “Bet Tori loves that.”

  She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter what she thinks now.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Her eyes widen. “They broke up. Didn’t you hear?”

  “Marcus and Tori broke up?” I’ve been so far out of the inner circle lately that tidbits like this have slipped by, gone unnoticed until someone prods them. And what does this mean for me? Will Marcus’ blatant flirting ratchet up ten thousand notches? “Crap.”

  Miley misinterprets that as sympathy. “I know, right. Sad.”

  I figure it’s been a long time coming, but I don’t voice my opinion. She might not see things as I do. “Is the whole school still talking about me?”

  Wincing visibly, she says, “Yeah.”

  “It’ll blow over soon, right?”

  “For your sake, I hope so, Cass.”

  Half an hour later, I wave goodbye to Miley from the porch. As her coupe pulls out, Dad’s SUV swings in.

  He hurries to lock the car and bounds up the five steps to me. “Hi, sweetheart.” He coils his arms around my shoulders, presses his lips to my cheek. “So delighted to have you back. Did you find the chocolates?”

  “Yes, and thanks.”

  He leads me into the house, shutting the door. “How’s Seb?”

  His question catches me by surprise. He’s never asked about him before. “He’s fine, good.”

  “Brilliant!” he says, without a clump of sarcasm. “I thought we could invite him over for dinner one night this week.”

  I’m not sure I trust this alien facet of my father. Has he moved too quickly into accepting Seb?

  “What do you think? Can be any night of your choice.”

  “Sure, yeah. That’ll be great.”

  He beams. “Let’s see what we can scrounge up for dinner, eh?” With an arm still around me, he tows me into the kitchen.

  “I could whip up some pasta.” If I recall correctly, there’s still an unopened jar of sauce and a packet of spaghetti in the pantry.

  “If you wish. Though we can easily call for takeout as well.”

  I feel my stomach twist and knot. I�
��ve had too much junk this week. The drawbacks of living with someone who has a bigger sweet tooth than I do. Trying to outdo Seb is not an easy feat. “Hm.”

  Dad smirks. “You look green. Is something wrong?”

  “Pasta will be fine.”

  He chuckles. “Someone in the Adler household must have a keen sugar stash.”

  “Mm. And that someone is my boyfriend.” I swivel to fill a pot with water and set it on the stove.

  Dad grabs the box of noodles and tears open one end. “I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you.”

  “I know, Dad.”

  “You have every right to hate me.”

  “I don’t, not anymore.”

  “Seb?”

  I shake my head. “But I’m curious why we drifted apart from my godparents.”

  “Undoubtedly you are,” he says under his breath, dropping a handful of pasta into the pot. “We had a disagreement about whether I was a fit enough parent to raise you by myself. My wife had just died, and I was a wreck. They wanted to have you live there, with them.” He sighs. “Sometimes, I wonder if you would’ve been happier there, with a sister and a brother to play with …”

  “I might not’ve met Seb.” And I wouldn’t be able to tell a skinwalker apart from a regular human.

  “Yes, well, things have certainly changed, haven’t they?”

  “Everything,” I say.

  He’s silent for a minute. “I am sorry, also, about Eve.”

  I tense, wait for the misery, the guilt, to come. It doesn’t. “Thanks.”

  “If you like, I can drive you tomorrow.”

  “Miley beat you to it.”

  “She did? Oh. Never mind.” He lowers his eyes to his shoes.

  I stir the noodles. “Are you going?”

  He nods once. “As a courtesy to the Murpheys. I owe them that much.”

  I’m about to ask what he means, when there’s a smash, tailed by a sickening crackling and the acrid smell of wood burning. My heart belly flops to my toes. Dad jogs into the hall. I shadow him.

  A thick, gray waft of smoke clouds the entryway. My eyes can just make out the table by the door, snaked in amber—it’s on fire—and the trail of gasoline passing under our feet. Was this here when I came home? I would have smelled it, if it were.

  Dad shoves me back the way we came. My toe snags on the corner of my suitcase, and I stumble.

  He catches me and flings open the back door. “Run.”

  Run where?

  “Get out of here! Go!”

  My pulse thunders in my ears. Before I realize where I’m going, my feet are carrying me around the house and down the street, through the darkness. My mind is numb as I am running. I can’t tell where I am going. I pause to catch my bearings. A porch light snatches my attention, shining bright, illuminating the front yard. I’ve returned to my safe haven.