“Yeah. Why?” I ask slowly.
Her smile is back, tighter this time. More forced. “He’s asked that you be placed with him until your birthday, and I just want to make sure he’s someone you trust.”
“Of course. I trust Finn with my life.”
“Has he asked you to live with him before?”
“What?” I shake my head. “No. Why would he—?”
“I just want to make sure he hasn’t been pressuring you to move out and be with him. I understand that dating an older guy, especially when you’re homeschooled, can be—”
“Whoa, lady.” I hold up a hand and straighten in my chair as understanding finally dawns. “Finn and I are just friends.”
“I see. I assumed . . .” She forces another fake smile. “He seems very attentive.” Even with my denial, she looks unconvinced. Nonetheless, she looks down and makes a note on her clipboard, and I have to fight the urge to reach over and break the damn thing over her head.
Was she really suggesting Finn might have hurt Aerina just to get his minor girlfriend to move in with him?
“He’s a friend,” I repeat through clenched teeth, “who is trying to comfort me after my aunt was attacked and taken against her will. I’d say attentive is more than appropriate considering the circumstances.”
“Right. Of course.” Amy writes something else down, and I grip the armrest until my knuckles turn white.
“Can I stay with Finn then?” I ask when the silence stretches. “Tonight?”
Amy looks up, startled. “Oh, no. Sorry, any requests will need to be processed through the proper channels. I’ll submit the paperwork tomorrow.” She glances out the window which now reveals a sky bright pink with the coming day. “Today,” she corrects. “But it will still take at least seven to ten business days, and Finn will have to complete a full character and background check, not to mention we’ll need to find out what you plan to do with your future.”
“I’ve basically graduated,” I tell her. “In the fall, I plan to enroll at community college and use it to get into a state school next year.”
Amy smiles politely, either unimpressed or unconvinced. “That sounds great, but we’ll need to take official statements from Finn and from both of your employers. Not to mention sending off for some sort of academic records for you. In the meantime, you’ll be staying at Ferndale House, I’m afraid.”
I drop against the back of the chair, feeling defeated all over again.
A pair of boots sound just outside the room, and a second later, Finn reappears. He’s carrying my duffel in one hand and my shoes in the other. I don’t even remember taking them off. “El, we need to talk about your organizational skills,” he says, and I snort.
“We can talk about it, sure,” I tell him.
He gives me a stern look, but I know it’s only his way of distracting me. “Good. It’s called an intervention, and your closet needs one.”
I roll my eyes as he drops my shoes in front of me and I slide them on. When I’m done, Finn is waiting with my jacket, and I let him hold it for me while I stand up and slide it on. Amy stands too, her gaze watchful and obviously still not buying my “just friends” story.
“So?” Finn asks her. “What’s the verdict? Can El stay with me for now?”
Amy flicks a glance at me then back to him before shaking her head and repeating the story she gave me. Finn’s expression hardens, and by the time she’s done, he finally looks pissed for the first time since walking in the door hours ago.
“El can’t stay in a place like that,” he says quietly.
“I’m afraid she doesn’t have a choice right now,” Amy says.
“You don’t understand. She can’t . . . It’s not . . . What are her other options?” he asks.
“Finn.” I slide my hand into his, mostly to diffuse his suddenly-boiling temper. I’ve never seen him get angry before. It’s one of the reasons we’re such good friends. A balance. He’s water; I’m fire. Or that’s what Aunt Aerina says. Used to say. Shit.
Where are you, Aerina?
My eyes once again fill with tears I’d assumed had already dried up hours ago. My hand in Finn’s tightens, and he turns to look at me.
“I’ll just go with her,” I tell him quietly.
He nods, probably more silenced from the sight of my tears than my quiet declaration. Amy is quiet too and simply falls into step toward the front door, leading our processional.
Finn sighs, his shoulders sagging heavily. Then he wraps his arms around me and pulls me in for a tight hug. His hands smooth my hair, and he kisses the top of my head.
“I won’t be far, okay?” he whispers. “Just be careful.”
“I will,” I tell him.
With one last hug, I’m out the door and on my way to the next chapter of my new life. The life of Elidi Brant, ward of the state.
Chapter Three
Everything good in my life is gone.
Through the thin walls, I can hear yelling over the thumping music. No one at Ferndale House is friendly. Their definitions of friendship vary from wanting to trade drugs to wanting to trade sexual favors. I’ve made it clear I don’t want friends like that or at all. But the word is out that the state-appointed therapist has prescribed me Xanax for the daymares, which she’s labeled panic attacks.
My thoughts drift over the events of the last seventy-two hours, lazy and lulled by the pill I finally caved and took earlier. It’s done its job, numbing the pain.
Despite her photo being plastered all over the news, there’s no trace of Aerina. She’s just gone. Her status as a missing person has become official, which means I’m a ward of the state now with paperwork to prove it. Amy-the-bitch texted me that news this morning. It’s what pushed me to take the Xanax.
I’m officially an orphan.
Finn has called me twice today, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to answer. He still isn’t cleared to take guardianship of me by the state or allowed to visit me either.
Beside me, my phone buzzes again. I look down and see Finn’s name on the screen and sigh again as I click to read his text.
If you don’t call me soon, I’m coming over.
My stomach tightens at that. If Finn shows up, he’ll take one look at this place and carry me away. And that won’t bode well for his application. Amy’s already warned me about funny business. She obviously still thinks Finn and I are a couple. I’ve given up trying to convince her differently.
Forcing myself to sit up, I dial Finn.
When Finn answers, his voice is overshadowed by the rapper boasting about “screwin’ these hoes.”
“Hello?” Finn says. “El? Is that you?”
“Hey, Finn.” My voice is scratchy—a dead giveaway I’ve been crying.
“Where the hell are you?” Finn asks.
“I’m at Ferndale.”
“What’s that music? Are you having a party over there?”
“It’s my roommates,” I say. “They like to listen to it loud.”
The beat drops out so all you hear is the rapper’s voice saying, “These hoes is creeping on meeeee, peeping on meeeee. They want this thug for a baby daddyyyy.”
“Do I need to come get you?” Finn asks.
“No, Finn. I’m fine.” I grab my blanket and move across the room to the closet before sliding to the floor in hopes the added wall space will help muffle the noise.
“Seriously, just say the word, and I’ll get you out,” Finn says.
“Finn. No,” I repeat, louder this time. “You can’t do that. The investigation, remember?”
Finn gets quiet. “I just want you to be safe,” he says finally.
“I am safe. Besides, Amy says you can’t come here without permission and definitely not outside visiting hours.”
“Amy can shove it up her—”
“If you do,” I go on, cutting him off, “you’ll mess up your chance of getting approved to let me live with you until my birthday.”
His
grumbled curses blend with the rapper’s.
“Amy said seven to ten days for your application. It’s already been three. That means less than a week and I’ll be out of here.”
“Less than a week,” he repeats reluctantly.
“Did you talk to Shelly at the gym?” I ask. “About holding my job?”
“Yeah, you’re good,” he says. “Don’t worry.”
“Thanks.”
We sit in silence for a moment.
I pick absently at a loose thread on the hem of the blanket then stop myself when I realize if I keep pulling on it, the whole thing will likely unravel.
“El?”
“Yeah?” I say.
“I miss you.”
My throat nearly closes. I want to tell him I miss him too, but that would be too much right now even with the Xanax coating the worst of it. Instead, I say, “She’s in trouble, Finn. I know it.”
“We’ll find her, El. You just have to get home first.”
His tone is absolute. The fact that he says ‘home’ like that’s where I’ll be when I go live with him stings my eyes.
“Do you think they’ll catch the thing I saw?”
“El, sometimes when people are really scared, their brain conjures images. Things that aren’t there. In order to explain something they don’t want to face.”
My heart seizes then cracks in two. He thinks I’m as crazy as the rest of them do.
“I didn’t imagine it,” I say, but there’s no real fire behind my words.
“Then no, I don’t think they’ll catch it,” he says so quickly I’m not sure if I’ve heard him right.
“But you just said—”
“If that red-eyed monster exists and is capable of disappearing a person without a trace, do you really think human police are going to find it?”
I blink, taken aback by his response. He’s obviously given this some thought already. “Probably not,” I say. “Does this mean you believe me?”
“I support you, El. No matter what. And I just want you safe which means you need to be here. With me. Where I can protect you.”
The words are so comforting, and my heart is so desperate for them that I shove aside my questions.
“I want that too, Finn. I miss you.” My voice cracks, and tears pool in my eyes.
“I’m going to find out about visiting hours and try to come see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.”
I start to hang up, but Finn says my name again.
“Yeah?”
“By the time your birthday rolls around, things will be different. It’ll be better. No matter what they say about that stupid application, in a few weeks, you’ll be eighteen which means you’ll be free to go. And you’ll be here. With me. You won’t be alone. You won’t be afraid. You’ll see, El. Things will be better.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
However, the moment we’re off the phone, the loneliness crowds in again. The Xanax is wearing off, and the music is louder now. But worse than that, the sun is gone.
Darkness has set in hard outside my steel-fortified window. There’s a draft seeping through the cracks that feels like it’s laced with more than just the winter’s lingering chill. Fingers. Tendrils of claws. Eyes. Something dark rides on the draft and sends chills shuddering through me.
I climb back into bed and burrow deeper into the blankets, shivering until my teeth chatter.
Someone bangs hard on my door, eliciting a short scream from my raw throat.
“What?” I ask.
“Dinner, bitch,” a stranger calls from the other side.
I’ve skipped dinner three days running, and I don’t intend to break my streak now.
Something cold and clingy reaches for me from the window. When I look, there’s nothing there. Not even a whisper of the screams I heard that night. But I can feel the presence just the same as if it’s waiting for me outside.
Somehow, I sleep.
My dreams are dark and menacing, and when I wake a few hours later, my clothes are damp with a cold sweat, and the house is finally, blessedly quiet. Somehow, the lack of noise is worse.
Fear snakes up along my spine and tickles my neck. Something is looking for me. Something dark and capable of slipping in through impossible places. Something more powerful than the strange black ink I can still feel like a second skin over my heart.
I have to get out.
The moment the thought arises, I leap up.
I rifle through my bag for fresh clothes and change quickly, hyper-aware of the feeling that something is watching me do it. My shoes are next then a ball cap pulled low over my ears and forehead. At the last second, I toss my phone back onto the bed and grab the bottle of Xanax before easing open the door and slipping out.
The hall is dark but empty.
I take the stairs as quietly as possible, my breaths shallow, my palm sweaty where it grips the bannister. At the bottom, moonlight streams in through a skylight above me, and I pause. Nothing moves, and I strain to hear some sound or sign that my fears are warranted, that I’m not alone.
But the house is silent and still.
I keep moving, stopping at the front door. It’s secured with a deadbolt that’s held fast by a combination lock. No way am I getting through that. Not without the combination or a pair of bolt cutters.
I remember the light that came out of my hand and, feeling stupid, place my hand over the cold metal. Nothing happens.
Frustrated, I double back toward the kitchen in search of another door and find one off the laundry room. It, too, is secured with a deadbolt. This one has a keypad rather than a combination lock.
My irritation spikes, and I slam my hand over the cold metal pad. There’s a soft beep and the door is pulled open from the outside.
I let out a shriek and scramble back as a figure in a black hood rushes in and clamps a hand over my mouth.
“It’s me. Okay? Calm down,” Finn says. “You’re safe. Please don’t scream.”
I relax and reach up to pry his hand away.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss.
“You needed me,” he says simply. His honey-brown eyes make it clear that, for him, it’s as simple as that.
“How did you get the door open?”
“Come home with me,” he says.
“Finn, I can’t. If they find out you were even here, they’ll deny your application.”
“I don’t give a shit about the application,” he whispers. “And neither do you. Or were you going someplace besides my house just now?”
I sigh. “Fine. I was going to see you.”
He grins. “Then come on.”
He turns and tugs me through the back door.
The moment I step out into the foggy night, my pulse races. I force myself to take a slow breath like Aerina taught me.
“Is it darker than usual?” I ask as Finn shuts the door behind us with a soft click.
He glances upward, frowning. “New moon.”
He peers up and down the street and starts down the sidewalk. A few cars roll by. Unfortunately, Ferndale House is set on one of the busier streets of the downtown area.
“Come on. We’ll cut through the woods,” Finn says. He grabs my hand and tugs me toward the tree line.
“What?” I plant my feet, refusing to follow him into anything darker than the glow of the dim street lights where we currently stand. “Why would we do that? Didn’t you drive here?”
“No, it would have drawn too much attention.”
“You’re telling me you walked all the way here from your house?”
He frowns, and there’s something off about his expression.
“Finn. What’s going on? Why are you really here?”
He blinks, and the frown vanishes. His hand tightens around mine impatiently. “You needed me, El. I told you. I’m not leaving you here any longer. Just trust me, okay?”
He nods at the woods. Between here and there, a blanket of fog lays over t
he ground, and my mind conjures all sorts of monsters I might meet if we walk through it.
I hesitate, but it’s a losing battle, and we both know it. Without Finn’s car, cutting through the woods is the fastest escape. I glance back at the house behind me, my gaze traveling upward to the barred window that is my bedroom now.
In the room beside mine, a light suddenly flicks on, and panic spears through me. The thought of returning to it is just as bad as the prospect of the woods at night. At least in the woods, I’ll be with Finn.
“El.” Finn tugs again, harder this time. “We have to go.”
I give in and hurry with him. A chill works its way underneath my coat, and I bite my lip against the urge to argue.
“Do you want me to carry you?” he asks when we reach the edge of the trees.
The fog curls against my back, tickling my senses until I’m positive something is watching us, but I shake my head. I refuse to turn and look.
“No.”
“Stay close.”
Behind us, the back door to Ferndale House opens and someone curses.
“Brand, what the fuck?” a person yells a second later.
I roll my eyes. They don’t even get my name right.
“Get your ass back here!” The voice travels through the fog.
With Finn’s hand over mine, we slip into the trees. The yelling and cursing coming from Ferndale House slowly fades.
Overhead, branches rustle with a wind that lifts the ends of my hair. My steps sound loud against the silence. Finn’s are barely discernable. I stare at his feet for a moment, concentrating on his methods and trying to copy them.
The feeling of being watched never leaves me, but I don’t turn to look.
Nothing, I tell myself. There’s nothing there.
Finn suddenly stiffens beside me, and I immediately halt.
“What is it?” I ask.
He looks down at me with an urgency I’ve never seen before and holds his finger against my mouth, silencing me.
I blink, listening. The wind is as soft and eerie as ever. The leaves shake tenuously from the branches overhead.
Somewhere nearby, a branch breaks.
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