by Jo Holloway
They followed a small concrete path between a row of tall hedges. Beyond the gap, the yard stretched still farther, dotted with fruit trees and raised vegetable gardens. A man with tanned skin leaned over a bed in the distance, bravely working close to the rows of beehives at the far end. Rhys steered them to a white wood-sided shed and entered a code to open the padlock on the door.
A faint smell of rotting wood mixed with the earthy notes in the air as the door swung open. She followed Rhys into the dim, cool space. The others waited outside since the small shed was already crowded. Pots and bags of soil lined the walls. An old lawnmower gathered rust in the middle of the floor. Given the enormous grassy area outside, there had to be other sheds housing newer and fancier equipment. Rhys had taken this one for his own purposes, probably because it wasn’t used, anyway.
“Over here,” he said softly. The wooden walls and bags of earth dampened the sound in the small space.
Sweat trickled down the back of Cara’s neck.
He removed several layers of burlap covering to reveal two large clay pots on the low wooden workbench at the far wall, one stacked upside down on top of the other. Rhys lifted the top one. His bare arms flexed as he flipped the giant terracotta pot right side up and set it down beside the bottom one. She swallowed and looked away from him to focus her gaze on the first pot. She leaned over the rim. Inside sat a glass terrarium, similar to the one she’d taken from the mansion with the snails in it. This one was a little taller and not as wide. It barely fit in the bottom of the flowerpot. Branches arranged inside gave height to the habitat for what appeared to be three small frogs.
“Oh!” The surprised sound slipped out of her mouth.
One of the frogs tilted its head up, and a green gleam crossed its bulging eyes.
“Cara, is that you?” The light, airy voice in her mind brought a flashback of the alley with it. She almost laughed with relief.
“Stormyx?” she said.
“No, I don’t think so,” the airy voice replied.
“Not anymore,” Jenyx said from the shed door behind her. Jenner stood with his two front paws up on the raised floor, with Wes and Jory on either side of him.
“Right. Obviously she has some other name now, but unless you named the frogs . . .” She glanced to Rhys, who gave her an incredulous look. “That’s a no. So then I don’t have anything else to call her, or him, or whatever. I’m sticking with Stormyx for now.”
“What are you talking about?” Rhys had a blank look. He was completely lost.
“I forget how much you don’t know,” she said. “Pyx take their identifiers—names, pronouns, all that stuff—from their pyxides to honor their hosts.” He still looked confused. “We can explain more later. So why are you willing to turn them over now?”
“Partly because you were right. I do hate myself for everything I’ve been doing. I can’t do it anymore.” His eyes darted across the dim space, and she followed his gaze to Jenner and the boys at the door. “And partly because Liv reminded me I was being a jerk.”
“What?” Her head whipped back around to him.
“Not actually. She didn’t speak or anything. But that’s what she would say to me if she could. I saw her yesterday, and she’s looking worse. She’s so thin and frail now, and that was never my sister. She was always strong.” The composure he’d been showing slipped a little as his voice cracked, but he regained it quickly. “I don’t want to run out of time to save her. My way wasn’t working. I’m ready to try it your way.”
It didn’t feel like a trick. He looked too broken, even in his composure, for it to be anything other than genuine.
“It has to be our way.” Her hand circled the air between them so he’d know what she meant. Liv was his sister. He had to be involved.
He nodded. “I know.”
She turned back to the frogs. He reached into the pot to pull the glass case out of the bottom.
“Why the pots?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I lost the first Pyx I got. I had the terrarium on the bench under the window over there. When I came back the next day, it wasn’t in any of the frogs anymore. I figured maybe the glass wasn’t enough to stop them from getting away, so I grabbed whatever was nearby to put a few extra layers around them. It’s worked so far.” He shrugged.
She followed him out into the sunshine. She thought Jenyx greeted each of the Pyx and confirmed who they all were, but there was no language she could hear. Some other form of communication was going on. Super weird.
They passed back through the gap in the hedge and angled across the yard to the pool to find a place to sit in the shade. Jory gazed longingly at the clear blue water again. It was a really hot day. Hot enough for the inviting water to overwhelm his distaste at being here, apparently. She hung back beside him, letting Rhys lead the way ahead. She gave Jory a teasing hip check with a nod toward the pool to show him he was busted.
He glanced ahead to Rhys and back at the pool with a one-sided grin. “He’s still a rutabaga, but that pool is what I’m talking about,” he whispered beside her ear. “I need one of those.”
Rhys set the terrarium on the table and waited for them to catch up. As they sat down, a trill came from the large bush behind the patio, and a bird flew out. She caught a flash of green in its eyes before it was gone.
“That’s one of them taken care of,” Wes said.
“Probably safe to assume that was the wanderer taking their chance to escape,” Cara added. Rhys looked confused again. She turned to the frogs. “You other two, you’re safe now. Assuming you’re the ones who used to be Belyx and Stormyx, we can take you back to Belle and Stormy if you want.”
“Hold on to at least one of the frogs, please,” Jenyx said. When the table was silent for a moment, he added, “We may need a new pyxis for Livyx at some point.”
Hearing his sister’s name used that way would probably have caused an explosion on any of their previous encounters, but today, Rhys simply frowned. Breathing a sigh of relief, Cara reached down to pet Jenner’s head.
“Good thinking, Jenyx. So, about that . . .”
“I’ve been checking my dad’s medical texts,” Rhys said. “The ones here, anyway. Most of them are in the library out at the manor.”
Cara recalled the stack of medical books beside the chair in his bedroom when she’d searched the house for Thomas last year. The warm day got warmer as she flushed again at the thought of being alone in his bedroom, and figured she shouldn’t mention those particular books. He must have been using them to search for a way to help Liv all this time.
“We did a little searching too. What did you find?”
“Before we get into it—I’m being a bad host. Would you guys like some drinks?” Rhys asked them.
It came out a little formal and distant, given everything they’d already been through. She appreciated he was trying to be a good host and do everything he could to work with them, and she could only hope it would feel more natural eventually. They’d have to learn to trust each other somehow whether he liked it or not.
“It’s okay, we don’t need—”
“Sure,” Jory said over her. “Sounds good.”
She cocked an eyebrow at her friend. Was he trying to get rid of Rhys for a while so he could dip his feet in the pool? Rhys must have had the same thought, or he’d caught Jory eyeing the pool earlier.
“If anyone wants to swim, you’re welcome to.” Rhys actually looked right at Jory.
She held her breath, remembering Rhys was a Pyxsee, too, and would have noticed more than most people. Was this his peace offering?
Take it, Jory. Please.
Jory glanced at the pool and gave a shrug that tried to come off casual. “Maybe.”
She exhaled, certain Jory would give in and take his chance. He’d cool off, and maybe this could all be salvaged. They could be civil now that they had such an accommodating host. She watched Rhys out of the corner of her eye as he stood, and hoped it
wouldn’t fall apart again right away.
Her tank top stuck to her lower back where the sweat had pooled. Sunlight sparkled off the water’s surface. She scooted her chair back into the shade of the bush and willed her body to cool down. Nice for the boys to be able to swim—their shorts would be dry again in twenty minutes in this weather. She was stuck settling for shade. Her white shirt and bra weren’t exactly swim approved.
Rhys had stopped at the far end of the pool. “Cara? I’m sure Liv has some swimsuits that would fit you if you want to join your friends.”
“Oh, no. No, that’s okay. I’m fine.” The response came out automatically. Too many years of hiding in shady corners, not joining in with other kids. She was too uncomfortable.
“Are you sure? She wouldn’t mind.” He took a few steps back toward her while he spoke, and her eyes grazed his long, lean form. Light reflected off the pool to dance across his arm and face in enchanting patterns. Butterflies in her chest danced through the crack in the wall she’d tried to put up again.
What are you doing, Cara?
She turned her gaze away from him to see Jory pulling his shirt over his head with one arm while he kicked off his shoes. He flashed her a quick grin and then let himself fall sideways into the pool. She chuckled as water splashed up around him. She’d known he couldn’t resist. A drop flew far enough to hit her leg with delicious coolness. Jory’s head broke the surface again with an arc of spray coming off his golden-blond hair, darkened by being wet. That stupid grin . . . She turned back to Rhys, who had his head tilted to the side, his gaze focused on her while she made her decision.
Crap. It is way too hot out for this.
Before she could overthink it, she stood up to follow Rhys to the house. When she glanced back over her shoulder, it was to see Jory pushing himself up out of the pool and Wes shedding his shirt and shoes to sit on the edge with his feet in the water.
She spun back around in time to avoid running into Rhys, who held the door open for her, and her cheeks burned as she brushed by him. The cooler air inside the house helped. She let him pass so he could lead the way through his home. They wound back through the dining room and kitchen to the front hall and up the stairs from the sweeping foyer. He hesitated at the top, and she arrived on the landing right beside him.
“This way,” he said after a second.
Maybe he hadn’t been in Liv’s room in a long time. This must be hard. She followed him silently down the hall, leaving a decent space between them, determined not to make any of this harder on him than it had to be. Her feet sank into the soft carpet. The only sound was her shallow breathing and her heartbeat thudding in her ears.
He stopped in front of a door. Unlike the others in the hall, this one had pale-green paint framing the inlay panels in the wooden door. Subtle but personalized. Her mouth curved into a small smile for the girl who lived here. Rhys took a long breath through his nose and opened it for her.
His eyes scanned the space, moving back and forth across it a few times. His mouth opened and closed once before he spoke.
“I think it’s one of these drawers.” He pointed to the bottom of a tall dresser.
A single flat sheet covered the mattress on the bed to keep it clean. Another sheet protected something in the corner—an armchair probably. Stale air filled the space.
“You haven’t been in here much,” Cara said, watching his face. Her heart ached at the sadness there. If only she had met him properly that first time at the diner. How much of what he’d gone through since then could she have helped him with? How different would things have been between them?
“No.”
“Are you sure about this? I really don’t need to. I’m fine.” She didn’t want him to be here if he didn’t want to. “I can just go back out there.”
He blinked. “No. I should have come in here more. She would want—” He didn’t finish his sentence, but glanced at her once before heading to the door. “Help yourself. Liv would want you to. Can you find your way back outside?”
She nodded, and he closed the door behind him. The breath she’d been holding since she’d walked in eased out slowly.
A quick tour around the room allowed her heart to beat normally again. She breathed easier, and the connection to the girl she felt drawn to deepened as she got a sense of Liv from her room.
A few scenic pictures hung on the wall, and a memory board like a smaller version of Cassidy’s giant pink-and-silver one held a cluster of photos. Liv at various ages—hiking, rock-climbing, riding a tall bay horse. One showed a pretty blonde woman holding a toddler in a green dress in one arm, with her other hand on the shoulder of a smiling boy of about five. Rhys’s grey-and-gold eyes shone from the boy’s face.
The same eyes stared at her from the face of an older version of the boy in a different picture, Rhys at eleven or twelve. He was dressed up and frozen in a classic ballroom dancing pose with a younger version of Liv. She looked like the type of girl who’d never gone through an awkward stage, a beautiful child in her dance costume. A more recent snapshot showed Liv with two other girls, laughing with their heads tossed back. It must have been taken not long before she wound up in the hospital. The smile on Cara’s face faded away. The girl in that photo hadn’t been in this room in a year and a half.
Cara swallowed and opened the bottom drawer of the dresser. It was packed with a jumble of swimsuits. She stared for a moment and then laughed in spite of herself. She reached out a hand to gingerly lift one from the top of the pile.
Good luck.
The wall of color swatches at the paint store had met its match in this drawer. Every color and pattern under the sun mingled together in a tangled mess. The strings from the bikini top she’d picked up looped around others below it, and she pulled out a long line of colored fabrics like a magician’s scarf trick. Her eyes grew wider the more she uncovered, but her heart sank. The girl who wore these was vibrant, confidant, bold . . . and so not her. This drawer was who Liv was—before she was the girl with the sunken blank eyes and limp, lifeless hair. The lump in Cara’s throat was enough to make her sit on the floor and put her head to her knees. Nothing else mattered. They had to help Liv.
She rummaged through the drawer, looking for anything resembling a one-piece. She sifted to the bottom where something finally drew her attention. She held it to her body. It looked about the right size.
She changed quickly, smoothing out the vertical piece connecting the broad top and bottom down her front, trying to stuff down her self-consciousness. Her hands ran across her bare sides. She searched for a mirror but didn’t find one. After cramming the rest of Liv’s bikinis back in the drawer, she shoved her underwear deep in the pockets of her shorts where they couldn’t fall out in some embarrassing moment, and folded the shorts over.
The hall stood empty when she opened the door, clutching her clothes to her stomach. She padded along the carpet, descended the stairs, and passed back through the marble foyer. The cool surface made her walk on tiptoes this time across, or maybe that was the nerves. Hurried steps took her through the empty kitchen, past the big dining table and the shiny piano, and out the door to where the sun warmed her skin and the grass tickled her feet.
Wes and Jory sat on lounge chairs on the pool deck. Wes held his phone in front of him, reading something on the screen, with his deeply tanned legs stretched out in the sun in front of him. One hand shaded his eyes. His gaze flicked up as she approached silently across the lawn. His head turned to Jory as his hand dropped from his face.
Jory’s body language couldn’t have been more different. Sitting sideways on the other chair with his feet on the ground, his bronzed back curved gracefully over his legs while his elbows rested on his knees. His head hung down between his arms, staring at the ground. She got close and was about to ask if he was all right, when he noticed Wes looking at him and lifted his head. He looked around and saw her.
Wes’s gaze returned to his phone, but a muscle twitched beside his
jaw. Jory’s eyes lingered on her. She clutched the clothes in front of her stomach. Having boys for best friends suddenly felt . . . complicated, especially in this heat. Setting her shoulders, she lowered the clothes and started forward again, feigning confidence she didn’t feel. They were her friends. She could get over it.
CHAPTER 19
Every Girl
CARA’S EYES TRACKED Jory as he stood and dove back into the pool, and then she glanced around the rest of the yard. Jenner raised his head from his spot in the shade nearby where he lay with his tongue lolling out. The frogs were in their terrarium beside him, staying cool as well. A glass bowl full of water sat on the grass next to her dog. She reached the chairs and took a seat on the one Jory had just vacated.
“Did Rhys bring—?”
“Yeah. He brought water for Jenner. Towels too. Over there.” Wes jerked his head toward the patio table without looking up from his phone.
Cara’s eyes followed his head motion over to the pool where Jory hadn’t surfaced yet. “Um, is Jory—”
“He’s fine. He’ll be fine.”
Something about his phrase didn’t sound right to her. “What does that mean?” She perched on her hands on the edge of the chair.
“Nothing.”
“Wes?”
He lowered the phone and searched her face, squinting in the sun. “I thought you were a Pyxsee. You know we’re supposed to be observant, right?” He gave her a pointed look.
“What is that—” A splash from the pool told her Jory had finally come up for air, and she turned to check on him. The back of his head bobbed along the surface, swimming slowly around until he let his feet drift up to float on his back with his eyes closed.
His attitude over the last little while, his rude text message after the photo from the gala, his moody swings between overly friendly and flirty and then cold and quiet—it all cascaded through her mind like dominos. Was Wes actually implying Jory was jealous? About her?
Her chest gave a little squeeze. “That’s not . . . You can’t actually think . . . No.” Her voice faded to a whisper. Wes raised his phone again and stared at the screen with a tiny shrug from one shoulder.
