by Cheree Alsop
“We decided to take a ride and ended up at your house,” Marek explained. He brushed the hair back from his eyes self-consciously. “I hope that’s okay.”
“You’re always welcome here,” I replied. My cheeks burned when I met his eyes. I stood up and Whisper took my hand. Marek shut the door and followed us to the kitchen.
“Marek!” Kip yelled. He dashed around the table almost knocking over Mom’s potted plant by the telephone and gave Marek a high-five followed by a secret handshake I wondered when on earth they had found the time to come up with.
“Well, well,” Dad said, pleased. He folded the newspaper with a satisfied air. “We were just about to make s’mores out back, weren’t we, Connie?”
“Oh, yes,” Mom exclaimed. “The more, the merrier!”
Rosie clapped from her high chair, her golden curls bouncing. “Hello, Rosie posie,” Marek said with a wink. “I couldn’t miss saying hi to the cutest little baby in the house!” Rosie giggled and dropped her spoon on the floor. Fellow, as obedient as always when Marek was over, ignored the splattered macaroni. He sat near Marek’s shoe and wasn’t about to move from his chosen spot.
“I need someone strong to help me carry out the marshmallows,” Mom said, her eyes twinkling with enjoyment at the unexpected company.
Everyone looked down at Whisper. “I’m strong,” she said in a barely audible voice. Embarrassed at the sudden attention, she hid behind Marek’s legs.
“Well, then you’re perfect for the job!” Mom said. She held out her hand. Whisper peeked out, then slipped her hand in Mom’s with a huge grin on her face.
Kip and Marek talked hockey as they carried wood to the barbecue pit near the middle of the lawn. The sun had set and the velvet sky glowed with the light of the city around us. A slight breeze made the warmth of the fire Dad lit a welcome addition to the evening.
Crickets chirruped in challenge to the cicadas that hummed in Grandpa’s forest. I thought of my favorite tree nestled deep in the woods. The last time I had visited it had been with Marek. Somehow, the excitement of reading books in its branches had been overshadowed by the new world the Shifter had opened up to me.
Dad handed out the sticks, Mom, the marshmallows, and Whisper was put in charge of the chocolate and graham crackers, a charge which she took very seriously as apparent by the dark smudges and cracker crumbs on her cheeks and chin. Rosie had gone to bed for the night, and Fellow rested his chin on Marek’s shoe, content for once not to bark at every noise he heard from the trees.
“Marek, you and Whisper have become a welcome addition to our family nights,” Dad said. He sat back in his lawn chair toasting his marshmallow evenly with his stick resting on his knee.
Marek gave him a warm smile and thanked him, but I saw the troubled expression in his eyes. He worried about the danger his presence carried with it. He watched Whisper as she helped Mom squish a well-toasted marshmallow between two graham crackers; it was obvious he hated the life he had given her and the fact that she had no mother or father. He would give her anything, but that was beyond even his reach, and for that, he couldn’t forgive himself.
He turned his eyes from Whisper and met my gaze across the fire. His eyes were blue, but I saw the firelight in them, flames dancing in their deep sorrow.
“What do your parents do?” Dad asked. Whisper giggled as she tried to help Kip blow out his flaming marshmallow.
“My dad’s an aeronautical engineer,” Marek replied without skipping a beat. “My mom stays at home with my brother, Matthew.” It was true. I knew it by the look on Marek’s face. He still watched them, still longed to be part of his real family. How many times had the black wolf sat outside their window in the dark, longing to be let in? He still searched for Shane. Did he harbor the hope deep down that if he found his brother, somehow it would fix everything?
A knot formed in my throat and I fought back the tears that stung my eyes. If only they knew what they put him through, what his life entailed on a daily basis, they would know what a mistake they had made. But deep down, I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Such was the fear of Shifters. That was why he fought so hard to rescue the Lost; he did it to keep them from becoming like him.
“Yes, sir,” Marek replied to a question I hadn’t heard. “I’ve always wanted to be a veterinarian and help animals, but cats just don’t seem to like me.”
Kip sputtered a laugh that shot the marshmallow he had been eating back into the fire. Everyone stared at him, me in horror, Mom and Dad in curiosity, Whisper with a giggle, and Marek with a slight smile. He met my eyes as Mom slapped Kip on the back, convinced he was choking on something.
Marek mouthed, “It’s okay.”
I didn’t know whether I should be relieved or concerned. I studied his face as he turned his attention back to my family. Part of me was glad that Marek was okay with the fact I had told my brother he was a Shifter, but I wondered if he would trust me anymore, and if I had betrayed him by revealing his secret to Kip. I gave myself a mental kick and swore to ask him before I told anyone else, if I ever had a reason to tell anyone.
Chapter 24- Marek
I watched them from where I sat on the other side of the fire. I shouldn’t have come. I cursed myself for the potential danger mine and Whisper’s presence brought to Kyla’s family. The Marchs were so carefree, unafraid of Falconans dropping out of the night sky to steal their loved one. They laughed and joked; there were times when they got mad at each other, Kip especially seemed to have a talent for pushing his parents’ buttons, but they got over it quickly and didn’t hold a grudge.
I watched Kyla and her mom as they tried to put chocolate and graham crackers over a still-flaming marshmallow. It was Kyla’s idea that the chocolate would melt better that way. Whisper sat on Mr. March’s lap, her chocolate-covered cheek resting comfortably on his sweatered chest.
They were both laughing at the other two and Mr. March gave helpful tidbits of advice on how to not get burned. Kip stood close by, a can of Coke held ready to douse any clothing that caught fire. The identical laughs of Kyla and her mother filled the air like two school girls. There was love in Mrs. Marchs’ eyes when she finally blew out the marshmallow, laughing over the lump of ash that was left.
I glanced back at Whisper in time to see her yawn. Maybe she could stay the night, tucked safe and warm in a soft bed with a mother to smooth the hair back from her forehead and kiss her goodnight.
I shook my head, suddenly angry. Whisper deserved that, even if I didn’t. How many times had I watched my own mother tuck Matthew into the bed that had once been Shane’s? My father frequently stood in the doorway, making sure his wife and son were okay.
From the same windows, I had watched Matthew grow into the healthy six-year-old he was now. Matthew had seen and even played with the black wolf in the few moments I could sneak undetected into the back yard. Our parents thought Matthew made up the big dog he talked about like an imaginary friend; but I saw the worried glances they exchanged when Matthew told our parents about a quick game of tag we had when Mom wasn’t looking.
Matthew was so dear to me. A younger brother; a brother. My heart ached whenever I thought of Shane. Matthew didn’t take Shane’s place and I never stopped looking for my other brother, but it helped ease the ache a little bit and soothed my wounded heart that throbbed when my thoughts caught me off-guard.
I forced those feelings away and fought down the lump in my throat. A family like that would never be mine again. I had to take care of the one I had. Turning my attention back to the scene across the fire, I saw that Mrs. March now held a stick on which was balanced a graham cracker, then a marshmallow, followed by a piece of chocolate on top. The flames licked eagerly at the graham cracker, toasting the bottom.
“It’s going to taste like smoke,” Mr. March warned.
“We’ll never know until we try, Matt,” Mrs. March shot back, a challenging grin on her face.
“They’re your tastebuds,” Mr. March conc
luded. He accepted the burnt-to-a-crisp marshmallow Kip offered and split the gooey mess with Whisper. “This girl needs to eat more,” he said to me, “She’s as skinny as a toothpick!” Whisper grinned with marshmallow in her white-blonde hair.
I nodded. “She eats all day but can’t gain a pound, right, Whisper?” I said with a wink. She nodded back, her dark eyes sparkling.
Mrs. March shrieked and dropped the s’more into the fire. I jumped up prepared for an attack. It took me a moment to realize that Kyla had just tickled her mother from behind. I stood crouched, my muscles taut and ready for action. I realized that they were all looking at me. I glanced back at my overturned chair, willing my muscles to relax. There are no Falconans here, I reminded myself.
“Jumpy, Marek?” Mr. March asked, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Like a grasshopper,” Whisper piped in, causing everyone to laugh.
Chapter 25- Kyla
Marek helped me carry the camping chairs to the house. Everyone else was inside. The chirping of crickets and cicadas warmed the starlit night, and a soft midnight breeze tickled the grass around us. Marek touched my arm. “Kyla?”
I stopped, my face red. “I’m sorry I told Kip. I just had to tell someone in case something happened and I couldn’t come home. I-“
“Kyla’s, it’s okay.”
I stopped, flustered.
He gave me a half smile, his head tilted slightly to one side in a way that reminded me of Fellow. Marek’s eyes held concern, belying the smile. “Does it bother you that we came tonight?”
I shook my head quickly. “No, not at all. I’m glad you came, thrilled, really. I just. . . .” I stopped talking, unable to phrase the thoughts that raced through my head.
“Just what?” Marek pressed. His smile faded.
“Just. . .” I took a deep breath to clear my mind. I let it out slowly, resting the folded chairs against my leg. “I’m just amazed that I’ve only known you for a week. My whole world’s changed since I met you.”
“Since you saved my life,” Marek replied. He looked relieved, like he had been afraid I was going to say something else.
I nodded. “It’s so much to take in, so different from what I know.”
Marek reached into his pocket and pulled out something that sparkled in the starlight. “I want you to have this.” He set it in my palm.
I stared at the necklace. The thin gold chain dangled between my fingers like a spider’s frail web. The ornament on the necklace was a small gold circle roughly the size of a nickel. On both sides were four interlocking, raised circles. Where the circles met in the middle, a small blue crystal caught the sparse light. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered. I rubbed a finger over the edges. They were smooth. The worn edge of the small hole where the chain hung gleamed as though it had been worn a long time. “Where did it come from?”
“We don’t accept rewards or ransom money from parents when we bring back their children,” Marek explained, then he smiled, “Well, we try not to. Once in a while they force us to accept it, like the time we returned a lawyer’s daughter back to him. That was back before we had to be so secretive, before Ras had the Falconans guarding the homes of the Lost against their return.”
He gave another small smile, his eyes distant. “The lawyer was so grateful when we brought his daughter back. I remember him hugging all of us at least four times without letting Madelyn go. He tried to give us a hundred thousand dollars, saying it was the reward he had put up for the return of his daughter. We refused his every attempt to give us the money, but when we returned to the Den, we found the money hidden it in Phoenix’s backpack. We tried to take it back, but he denied ever seeing us before.” Marek gave a small laugh. “So we used the money to buy the computers and set up the Den so that we could help more kids. He sends donations monthly and it allows us to continue rescuing others.”
“And this?” I asked. I let the chain slip between my fingers so that the circle spun slowly in the starlight.
Marek watched it turn. “We rescued a little boy and girl, six and seven years old. It took a long time to find their home. Those without money get the least advertising in the world of the Lost. The kids were so quiet and polite; Tommy and Mary were their names.”
Marek tapped the circle so that it spun faster. “When we took them home, their mother was already running out the door before I could turn off the car. Somehow, she had known we were coming, known her little ones were finally safe. She could barely talk, she was crying so hard. We all were,” Marek admitted. His eyes shone. “She took this from around her neck and gave it to me. I still remember how her hands shook when she closed my fingers around it, then she threw her arms around me and hugged me so tight.”
Marek shook his head. “I wanted to give it back, but she begged me to take it, saying she had nothing else to show her appreciation. Even though I told her we didn’t need anything, she said it would mean the world to her if we could accept the tiny token of her gratitude. We left, but I returned the next night with some money and food. I found out that her husband died of cancer the year before, and her children had been kidnapped six months later. We leave them money every couple of months.”
“I’m sure they appreciate it,” I replied, touched.
Marek nodded. “That was three years ago, when we began to realize how bad the kidnapping was becoming.” He met my eyes. “Those kids had been away from home for six months. They’d been bought and sold several times in the underground slave market. Groups of organized kidnappers were starting to work for the government, picking up children who wouldn’t be missed or whose parents didn’t have the means to come after them.”
“That’s horrible!”
Marek nodded. He glanced toward the house. “That woman looked at me like I was an angel, like I had brought heaven to her home.” He met my eyes again. “That’s what you’ve given me, Kyla. You helped me realize that all humans don’t fear Shifters, that we aren’t so repulsive. You care and give so much; you’re like a breath of fresh air.”
My cheeks burned. I didn’t know what to say. I slipped the chain over my head and tucked the circle under my shirt where it would be safe. The metal felt cool against my skin. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Before I could pick up the chairs, Marek reached over and touched my chin lightly, turning my face toward the light of the stars. I held still and found myself wishing that he would never let go. “Your eyes have specks of blue in the green,” he whispered softly. “I’ve never noticed it before.”
I stared at him. Marek smiled self-consciously and dropped his hand. He picked up the chairs again and indicated the house. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” I replied with a matching smile, my cheeks on fire and my heart pounding.
Chapter 26- Marek
I wanted to kiss her. Something in her eyes melted away every other thought in my head. Her smile, self-conscious and sweet, pulled at my soul and made me feel wanted and accepted in a way I hadn’t felt since Galbran’s men took Shane and I. Dropping my hand from her cheek had taken every ounce of self-control I possessed, but I didn’t want her to think she owed me after the necklace.
I followed her into the house and set the folding chairs in a closet by the kitchen alongside the two she had carried. I found myself watching her every move, the way she brushed the hair that escaped her braid back with elegant fingers, tucking the strands deftly back into the braid, the way she smiled at the little black dog and his tail-wagging response, the way she helped Mrs. March put away the s’more supplies and clean up the kitchen for the night, and the self-conscious look she threw me when she accidentally tipped over a cup of milk, spilling it over the counter.
I hurried to help her and she smiled when I took the rag from her hand and sopped up the mess. “You don’t have to do that,” she said quietly.
“I want to,” I reassured her. I rinsed the rag out in the sink, then she took it from me and set it in a basket on the washing machine in a small ro
om just off the hallway. I caught Mrs. March watching us with a smile on her face. She turned away at my glance and busied herself with straightening up the place mats on the table.
“I’m going to check on Rosie,” Mrs. March said, excusing herself. “Thanks for coming over, Marek. We expect you over again as soon as you can manage.” She glanced into the living room where Whisper lay asleep on the couch with a soft blanket over her tiny body. “And bring Whisper, too.”
“I will,” I reassured her. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
She smiled at us again, then went upstairs.
“Your parents are great,” I told Kyla. I pushed a chair back under the table, then glancing around the kitchen to make sure everything else was in its place.
“They’re amazing,” she agreed. She followed me into the living room and smiled at Whisper’s sleeping form. “Somebody’s all worn out.”
I nodded. “I am. Do you want to tuck me in?”
She laughed and tossed a couch pillow at me. “Not who I was talking about.”
I grinned and set the pillow on the easy chair. “Shoot. I was looking forward to it.”
She rolled her eyes and sat on the floor with her back against the couch. “I’ll bet.”
I sat down next to her and ran a hand across the floor, studying the way the fibers made patterns of my handprints. “I’m sorry about today,” I said quietly.
I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She looked at me curiously, her fingers tracing the hem of her pants around her ankle. “What are you sorry about?”
I met her eyes. “About the shooting. I was careless. I shouldn’t have let you go. It was too risky.”
She shook her head quickly. “I wanted to go, and I’m glad I got to see Abby and Alex go home. That was worth the risk.”
I disagreed fully. “They would have gotten home without involving you. I’m not going to let you get shot by Ras.”
