by C.J. Hart
Jack is in the yard, watering the hydrangeas. “Hello, Cassie.” He notices my bare feet first, then whatever’s on my face—fear? “What’s the matter?” The hose drops from his grasp.
“Call the fire department,” I say as I gulp in breaths. “My house is on fire.” Lizzy! I clutch at my chest. Oh, my poor cat.
He charges up the steps, into the house. I’m too shocked to move, catch my breath, process what had just happened.
Seb comes to the door, sees me and rushes over. “Are you okay? What happened? Jack said your house is on fire?”
My breathing evens as soon as his arms are locked around me. “Yes.” Is Dad safe?
“Are you hurt?” He holds me at an arm’s length to check for visible wounds.
“No.”
He pulls me tight against his chest again. “Tell me what happened.”
It isn’t a question; I can’t avoid it. So, I fill him in—on everything since our phone chat this afternoon.
Someone offers me a plastic cup of water.
My gaze swings up to Jess. “Thanks,” I mumble and accept it.
Sarah tugs her back a bit, onto the porch steps. “Give them some space.”
A fire truck roars down the street, and then makes a hard right, turning onto mine. My feet want to follow, as if they have a mind of their own, disconnected from the rest of my body. But I resist and sink to the ground, salt water welling in my eyes, blinding me.
“Hey.” Seb pokes me.
I ignore him.
“Look.” He wipes my eyes, forcing me to see, and then points over my shoulder.
Reluctantly, my eyes follow to the last shrub in the yard. At first, I see nothing out of the ordinary, nothing worth pointing out. Then I glimpse a white-tipped tail. Two black, pointy ears. Four white paws. Two yellow eyes, glowing in the light from the porch.
I jump up. “Lizzy!” I’m crying again, tears spurting from my eyes. I thought I’d never see her again.
She lets me pick her up, and I rock her in my arms. Seb smiles, goes to scratch the fur behind her ears. She hisses and tries to shred his hand.
“Nice cat.” Jess’ tone drips with sarcasm.
A minute later, a figure appears in the street, two houses down. Dad. How’d he know I’d come here? Or did his heart show him the way to me?
“Dad!” I’m caught between wanting to run to him and wanting to stay.
He sprints over. “Oh, Cassie, I’m glad you’re safe.” He goes to hug me, and then notices Lizzy in my arms. He settles on patting my back. “The good news is that they put the fire out. It didn’t spread, thankfully.”
I’m surprised. The gasoline didn’t catch? “The bad news?”
“None, really. We can go back in. There’s not that much damage, and the fire department has given us the all-clear.”
I didn’t really want to sleep there; whoever it was may come back.
Sarah pads over to us. “Why don’t you just grab some things and stay here?”
“Are you sure?” Dad says. Things between them are still fragile; this will be the ultimate test—can they move on?
“Yes.”
“Okay, then. Let’s go before it gets too late.”
“I’m coming with,” Seb says.
I have a feeling he isn’t going to let me out of his sight for a while.
Dad stares at him for the longest minute before sighing. “Okay, but tonight—”
“I sleep on the floor, I know, sir.”
We already agreed on sleeping arrangements—that Dad trusted me enough—but I let that slide for tonight. No use in having another fight right now when we’re all exhausted.
A worn smile spreads on my father’s features. “Let’s go home.”
***
The front door has been eaten by flames.
“This can’t be safe,” I say, stepping over shards of what used to be the hall table.
“Is there any indication left of who did this?” Seb lifts me over a chunk of wood.
Dad shakes his head. “But I know what. There’s this one—” His eyes dart to Seb, and then back to the mangled carpet in front of him. “One skinwalker that I’ve been pissing off. You can probably guess.”
He aims this at Seb, but I can form the answer, too.
Ash.
I toe a rock out of the way. “So we’re all in his warpath, I see.” I spot a bigger stone ahead. “What’s this?” I pick it up and turn it over. A note is taped to the back of it and a chill shimmies down my spine, bunkering in my toes. I pass it to Seb.
My father peers over his shoulder and reads the words aloud. “‘Watch. Wait. Listen.’ Christ, what have I gotten us into?”
I roll my eyes skywards. “Dad, I’m pretty sure this began with Seb. They mess with you, get to me, to hurt Seb.”
Seb’s mouth scrunches. “It could’ve been the other way around, Cass. I could be the pawn in this game, not you after all.”
He could be right. What better way is there to get to a Hunter than to hurt his daughter?
***
I open an eye. The sun seeps through Seb’s bedroom curtains. I close that eye. My fingers march across the bed, searching for him, where he always is.
But he’s not here.
Voices carry from elsewhere in the house. Laughter. I peel back the blankets and crack the door open an inch. Two males, one younger. Seb and Dad. Chitchatting over breakfast?
This is so weird. But I can get used to it.
I trade my pajamas for sweatpants and a tee, coaxing my frazzled hair into a ponytail. Then I creep out of his room, up the hall, and lean around the kitchen archway, staring at them, their laughter echoing through the Adler’s house. Seb is cooking. The aroma of blueberries, butter, and coffee tickle my nose. Dad’s reading the paper at the table. The rest of the house is quiet; the Adlers don’t seem to be home.
Seb swivels to say something else and sees me. His grin is brighter than magnesium burning. He’s found another place to call home, and I don’t think he can get any happier than this. But I could be wrong. We’re only young—there are many more thrilling and terrifying experiences ahead of us.
He drops the spatula on the counter and swings me into his arms, kissing me. “Good morning.”
“Eh, eh,” Dad says, “watch the PDAs.”
“There were no rules about that, Dad. And besides, this isn’t your house.”
“So? I’m still your father.”
Seb releases me.
“What’s for breakfast?” I hoist myself up onto the countertop.
“Pancakes.” He flips the one in the pan onto a plated stack.
“Yum.” I reach for one.
He slaps my hand away, smiling. “Wait your turn, honeybee.”
“How long?” My stomach snarls. We didn’t have dinner last night.
He pours more batter in. “One more.”
“Cool.”
“Would you mind making the syrup?”
“Making?” I’m used to squeezing it from a bottle. “Sure. What do I do?”
He curls a finger, waving me closer. I hop off the counter and stand next to him.
“Everything’s measured out. Just pop them in this saucepan.” He edges it closer to me. “And when it boils, keep stirring.”
I do as told, curiosity growing stronger with every ingredient I throw in. “Where did you learn this?”
His eyes meet mine, saddening as the moments tick by. “Mom taught me.” He forces a grin, and then hugs me again.
He must miss her so much. I know how he feels. But at least he can speak to and see his again. I don’t have that luxury.
The mixture bubbles. As I stir, I think of what I can do to reunite him and his mother. Surely, there’s a way where his father doesn’t have to find out.
Dad stands, refills his mug. “Smells good.” His face contorts for a beat. “You should cook breakfast for us when we get back into the house. That kitchen hasn’t smelt like this since Libby…”
&nb
sp; Welcome to the house of damaged souls. Please accept this complimentary bag of goodies as an appreciation for your stay.
“Well, I hope they’re just as good.” Seb slides the last pancake onto the plate and sets it on the table. He then pours the syrup into a jug.
Dad slides two onto his plate. “I’m sure they are.” He drizzles some syrup over the top.
Seb pulls out my chair. I press a kiss to his cheek and sit. I catch Dad staring at us, a smile growing on his lips.
“Who would’ve thought my daughter and a creature I’m supposed to be hunting would make such an adorable couple?” he says.
His sincerity, his acceptance of us as a unit, shocks me. Who would’ve thought of Dad as a softie?
“Thanks,” I say, grabbing myself two pancakes. Everything’s gonna be all right. He and Seb are beginning to get along. I’m coping, even though my best friend is gone, my house nearly burned down, and we have psychotic Ash after us. I’m coping.
After I’ve had my fill of pancakes and coffee, I retreat to the bedroom and snitch a notepad from Seb’s side table. A pen as well. I flip to a blank page and stare at it, pressing the tip of the pen to the top line, trying to conjure up the words. Not just any words—they’ve got to be the right ones.
But I don’t know how to sum up all that is Eve, or how to express how much it hurts that she’s gone. I’m not a writer; I can’t command the words to appear.
I stare at that page for the longest time, salt water dripping off my chin because I—I can’t do it.
How do you write a eulogy for a friend you’ve known the majority of your life? I’m not sure it can be done.
I’m about to give up when he slides onto the bed next to me. I hadn’t heard him come in.
“What’s wrong, Cass?” He swipes a thumb under each of my eyes, and then glances at the notepad in my grasp. Catching on, he says, “Don’t worry about how it sounds right now—just write something.”
Easier said than done.
“You can fix it up later.”
Before he finishes, the pen is scratching across the paper and the words began to flow.
3:40 pm. The store’s quiet. I wait for a few minutes, to see if any customers come in. No one does. I slip into Chad’s office and dial home.
After a few rings, Mom answers. “Yá’át’ééh?”
“Hi,” I say.
“Hok’ee? How are you? Where are you?”
I can hear her sobbing. I take a deep breath. “I’m okay, Mom.” God, I miss the sound of her voice. I didn’t realize how much until now.
“When will you be home?”
“I don’t know, Ma. I’m not Dad’s favorite person right now.” I tap my fist against the desk, wanting to punch something. Ash, Dad, anyone that crosses my path.
“I don’t care,” she says. “Please. I’ll meet you anywhere, my son.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be.”
I clamp my eyes shut. I do.
“Where are you staying?”
I take another deep breath and hold it for a beat, steeling myself. “I have to go. Love you.” I slam the phone down and crumble into Chad’s swivel chair.
Cassie
At 3:50, Eloise sidles up to me. “You look beat. Why don’t you take your break?”
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Go on. It’s an order.”
“Okay.” I raise my hands in defeat. “I’m going.” I grab an apple-cinnamon muffin from the display case and trudge into the storeroom. I’ve thought up many ways to reunite Seb with his mom, but only one seems doable—call her. Get her to meet us somewhere.
I suck in a deep breath, and then dial the number I got from the phonebook.
After three rings, someone answers. There are four seconds of terrifying silence. Then, a soft, female voice says, “Yá’át’ééh?”
“Johona?” I say a silent prayer, thankful that her husband didn’t answer.
“Yes?”
“I’m a friend of Seb’s.” I want to say girlfriend, but I don’t want to shock her too much. I don’t know how much or little she knows.
She’s silent for another moment. Her breathing is heavy, as if her heart is pounding in her chest. “Cassie?” she whispers.
“Yes.”
“Call back in an hour.”
Got it. Her husband is home. “Oka—”
Beep, beep, beep. She’d hung up.
I replace my cell in my apron’s pocket and drag myself onto the counter. Have I done the right thing?
The hour passes slowly. Customers come and go. I deliver orders, top up coffees and sodas, and refill ketchup bottles. Forty-three minutes after the call, the pack—minus Seb, of course—enter. I don’t recognize two. Looks like they do have new members. Oh, joy.
Ash winks at me and sends me a finger wave. “Hi, gorgeous!”
Creep.
Kat’s there, seated between the hazel-eyed one—Tas—and Ash. He looks as if he doesn’t want to be here and is trying to hide that fact, overcompensating with a scowl.
“Do you know those guys?” El says.
I resist the urge to turn my back on them. “You could say that.”
“They giving you trouble?”
A sigh slips from my throat. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“If you say so.”
Tas waves me over. “Waitress!”
Shit. What do I do? Act normal? Throw a drink in one of their faces? Laugh maniacally so they think I’m the crazy one and they leave me alone? I grab my pad and pencil, walking over. “Yes?”
“We’d like to hear the specials,” Tas says.
“Bite me.”
Ash smiles humorlessly. “I’d like to, sweetheart, very much so. But another time, another place.”
Is that a threat?
My eyes catch the clock. A minute until I have to make that call. “Look, the kitchen’s about to close. The best I can do is throw you some leftover sandwiches.”
“That’s the best you can do?” Ash lifts an eyebrow, a lopsided smile on his lips.
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, that’ll have to do. For now.”
Why don’t you turn around so I can kick you up the a—
“Cass?” Eloise says.
“Yeah?”
“It’s nearly closing time. Can you balance the till?”
I skip over to her. “Uh, I’ve just gotta make a phone call first.”
“Okay. Must be important.”
“It is.” I dare a look over my shoulder at the pack. “Can you get them their sandwiches?”
Kat snags my gaze, and then looks away, ashamed to have to still be around them.
“Fine, but you owe me.” She smiles, and I know she doesn’t mean it.
I pull out my cell and hit redial.
“Cassie?” Seb’s mom says.
“Yes, it’s me,” I say.
“How is he?”
“Seb’s fine. He’s making the best of his life. Eating lots.”
She chuckles. “Hasn’t changed, I see. Where is he living?”
I pause, not knowing if he’d want me to say. “Are you free Saturday afternoon? Could you meet us at the park?”
“Yes, anything.”
A part of me knew she’d go anywhere for her son. But it was comforting to hear her acknowledge it, for me to know she’s not cold-hearted like the rest of his so-called family. “Three pm?”
“Yes, I’ll be there. Ahéhee’—thank you.”
“He misses you a lot.”
“Yes?”
I hear her sniffle.
“I miss him as well,” she says.
El calls me.
“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go,” I say. “Take care.”
“You also.”
I hang up and return to the shop. “Sorry, I’ll balance the till now.”
“First, Joe wants you to get rid of them.” She jerks her chin towards the pack. “He says they’re friends of your
boyfriend.”
And, therefore, the responsibility falls on me. Terrific. “Friends is a vast overstatement.”
“Well, get rid of them.”
I drag my feet over to them, folding my arms across my chest. “It’s time to go. We’re closing.”
“Guess we’d better go, boys,” Tas says.
The group stands and reluctantly heads for the door.
“See you ’round,” Ash says, unsmiling and serious—like threatening to come back and beat me to death.
Don’t look scared. Seb is probably already outside, waiting to escort me home.
Kat throws me an apologetic look over his shoulder as he leaves after them, and I get it; he wants to leave them but can’t. He’s the only one on our side who can slip seamlessly into both groups.
As soon as they’re out, I lock the door and flip the sign to closed. I exhale and turn to see Eloise watching me.
“That one with the red eyes, he’s…”
“A sadistic bastard?”
“A little.” She swings her bag onto her shoulder. “I’m meeting Chad downtown. I’ve taken care of everything, so let’s just leave before the boss man catches us giving ourselves a three-minute early mark.” She winks and links an arm in mine.
I tear off my apron, grab my bag, and she pushes open the back door, leading us into the matchbox-sized employee parking lot.
Seb is leaning on the hood of my car. He reads something in my expression—angst?—and pushes off from the vehicle. “Tell me what happened.” There’s no guessing with Seb, it’s as if he already knows.
We get in my car, and I fill him in. He’s silent when I finish, his head tilted back against the headrest, arms folded.
“Say something.” I touch his arm.
“I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I.” But it seems as if I have to put up with it for now.
“I don’t want you to be alone, not for a second.”
The biggest gap in being babysat is after school, when Dad’s at work and I’m home alone. “I guess I can always go to Miley’s and do homework.”
He reaches for my hand. “Or the Adler’s.”
“True.”
He’s silent for another moment, and then closes his eyes. “I spoke to Mom today.”
My eyebrows inch up my forehead. “Oh?” Before or after I did?
“Yeah.”
I trace the lines on his fingers. “I, uh, spoke to her, too.”
His lashes flutter open. “You what?”
“Are you mad?”
“What did you talk about?”
“You. Then I asked her to meet us on Saturday, after Evie’s—y’know.” It feels too difficult to say funeral out loud at the moment. “So, are you mad?”
