"What is it?" she demanded. "Stop making me guess what you're thinking, Pick!"
"Well, it's just that…" He shook his head slowly, his lips still moving, but no sound coming out.
"Why would the demon be coming after me?" she pressed, poking at him insistently with her finger.
Then the bedroom door opened, and her grandfather looked' in. Pick disappeared instantly. Nest stood up, smoothing down the front of her T-shirt, composing her face.
"Your friends are at the back door," her grandfather said. "I think you ought to see them."
Reluctantly Nest came out of the bedroom and followed him down the hall. The old grandfather clock marked the cadence of their steps. As they passed the living room, she glanced in at the pictures of her mother and Gran resting on the fireplace mantel. Gran's cross-stitch project rested on the arm of the old easy chair, unfinished. Her crosswords sat in a pile on the floor beside the chair. There were small pieces of her everywhere. Dull slants of gray light wedged their way through the drawn curtains and window shades, but the room felt musty and empty of life.
In the kitchen, dozens of containers of food sat unattended on the table and counters like forgotten guests. Her grandfather slowed and looked vaguely at the array of dishes. "I better see to this. You go on outside. It might be more private for you in the backyard."
She went the rest of the way down the hall to the screen door and opened it. Robert, Cass, and Brianna stood waiting for her. Cass held a bouquet of daisies, mums, and marigolds.
"Hey," she said by way of greeting.
"Hey," they replied in jumbled unison.
Cass passed her the flowers, dark eyes bright with tears. "Sorry about Gran, Nest. We'll all miss her."
"She was the best," Brianna agreed, wiping at her nose.
Robert shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at his shoes in a way that suggested he had never seen them before.
"Thanks for coming by." Nest sniffed at the flowers automatically. "These are really pretty."
"Well, daisies were always her favorite," Cass said.
"You remember when she laid into me for cutting down that stand out back?" Robert asked suddenly. He seemed surprised he had said something and gave Nest a quick, hopeful look. "Man, she was upset. But when you told her I was taking them home to my mom, she said right away that it was all right, and she took us inside and gave us milk and cookies. Remember?"
"I remember when she helped me make that Cinderella costume for Halloween when I was six," Brianna said, smiling. "She did most of the work, but she told my mom we did it together."
"I still can't believe she's gone," Cass said.
They were silent a moment, and then Robert said, "What happened to her anyway, Nest? There's all kinds of stories floating around."
Nest crossed her arms defensively. "She had a heart attack." She tried to think what else she could say. Her gaze shifted away from Robert and back again. "I suppose you heard about the shotgun."
Robert shrugged. "Everybody's talking about that part, and you can guess what some of them are saying. But my dad says people will talk no matter who you are or what you do, so you might as well get used to it."
"People are mean," Brianna said to no one in particular.
No one spoke, eyes shifting uneasily in the silence.
"Thanks for not leaving me last night." Nest tried to change the subject. "You know, for getting Grandpa to come back over and find me."
She told them what had happened to her, only leaving out the part about the demon, then adding at the end that she was all right, no harm had been done, and they should all forget about it.
"What about the man who's poisoning the trees?" Brianna said, her brow knit anxiously.
Nest shook her head. "I don't know. He's still out there."
"Danny Abbott is a butt-face." Robert muttered angrily. "You should have let me punch him out when I had the chance, Nest."
Hearing him say it made her smile. She came through the doorway, and the four of them walked out into the shady backyard and sat down at the old picnic table. Thick, gray clouds floated overhead, drifting out of the west where the sky was already darkening. Rain was on the way, sure enough. In the' park, the first of the softball games had started up. Families were arriving by the carloads to set up their picnic lunches and to settle in for the day's events and the evening's fireworks. Nest watched a line of cars crawl down Sinnissippi Road
past the townhomes.
"Where's Jared?" she asked, wondering for the first time why he was missing. No one said anything. Nest saw the discomfort mirrored in their faces. "What's wrong? Where is he?"
"He's in the hospital, Nest," Cass said, her eyes lifting. "That's what we came to tell you. It was on the news this morning, but we thought maybe you hadn't heard."
"George Paulsen beat him up real bad," Brianna said softly.
"He beat him within an inch of his life!" growled Robert, shoving back his shock of blond hair aggressively. "The jerk."
Nest felt her stomach go cold and her throat tighten. She shook her head slowly, awash in disbelief.
"I guess it happened right after your grandpa sent us home," Cass explained. Her round face was filled with pain, and her dark eyes blinked rapidly. "Jared came in the door, and George got mad at him for something and hit him. Jared hit him back, and then George really unloaded."
"Yeah, and then he runs off before the police arrive." Robert's face was flushed with anger. "But it didn't do him much good. He fell trying to climb the cemetery fence and tore his throat open on the exposed ends. Bled to death before anyone could reach him. My dad says it's the best thing that could have happened to him."
Nest felt a vast, empty place open inside. "How's Jared?"
Cass shook her head. "He's in a coma. It's pretty bad."
"Mom says he might die," Brianna said.
Nest swallowed and fought to keep the tears from coming. "He can't die."
"That's what I said," Robert agreed quickly. "Not Jared. He's just gone away, like he does sometimes. He'll be back when he's feeling better." He looked away quickly, as if embarrassed by what he had said.
Nest brushed at her eyes, remembering the shy way Jared always looked at her. She struggled to bring herself under control. "Why would George Paulsen do something like that?"
"You know," Robert snorted. "Old Enid and he were drinking and fooling around." Cass gave him a sharp look. "Well, they were! My dad says they were."
"Your dad doesn't know everything, Robert," Cass said evenly.
"Tell him that."
"Mom says they tried to he about it at first," Brianna interrupted, "but then Mrs. Scott broke down and told them everything. They didn't arrest her, but they took her kids away and put them in foster care. I guess she's in big trouble."
Everyone in that family is in trouble, Nest thought sadly. But it's Jared who's paying the price. Someone should have done something to help him a long time ago. Maybe it should have been her. She'd helped Bennett when she was lost; why hadn't she found a way to help Jared? Why hadn't she seen he might need her help? She could picture George Paulsen hitting him, could see the feeders rising up out of the shadows to spur George on. She could see Gran as well, standing on the porch with the shotgun pointed at the demon as hundreds of lantern eyes stared hungrily from the shadows.
"It just isn't fair," said Brianna.
They talked a while longer, sitting out under the oak trees in the seclusion of the backyard while beyond the hedgerow the park continued to fill with picnickers. Finally Nest told them she had to go in and get something to eat. Robert wanted to know if she was coming over to the park later for the fireworks, and Cass gave him a look and told him he was an idiot. But Nest said she might, that she had been thinking about it and there was no reason to just sit around the house. Gran would have wanted her to go. She would ask her grandfather.
She waited until they disappeared through the hedgerow into the park, then rose and walked slowly ba
ck toward the house. She had a curious, unpleasant feeling that everything was slipping away from her. She had always felt secure about her life, able to face whatever changes might come. But now she felt her grip loosening, as if she might no longer be able to count on anything. It was not just losing Gran and maybe Jared; it was the dark way the world beyond the park had suddenly intruded on her life. It was John Ross and O'olish Amaneh appearing. It was the coming of the demon. It was the danger the maentwrog posed, threatening to break free of its centuries-old prison. It was the sudden emergence of so many feeders in places they had never been seen before and Pick's warning of a shift in the balance. It was the revival of the mystery surrounding her mother and father. It was Wraith's failure to protect her last night.
But mostly, she thought, it was the fear and uncertainty she felt at the prospect of having to rely on her magic to stay alive-her magic, which she mistrusted and disliked, a genetic gift come out of her own flesh and blood that she had never fully understood. Gran had left her with a single admonition. When he comes for you, use your magic. Not "if he comes" or. "should he come." There was no room for debate on what was going to happen or what was required of her, and Nest Freemark, at fourteen years of age, isolated by loss and doubt and secrets kept hidden from her, did not feel ready to deal with it. She was still wrestling with her sense of vulnerability, standing alone not ten feet from her back door, when the demon appeared.
Chapter 27
The demon stepped from behind the garage where it opened onto the driveway leading down the lane, emerging from a patch of shadows cast by one of the old shagbark hickories. Nest froze on seeing him, the thoughts that cluttered her mind disappearing with the quickness of fireflies in daylight. She was so surprised by his appearance that she didn't even think to call out. She just stood there, staring at him in shock. His bland face was expressionless, as if coming upon her like this was quite natural. He studied her with his washed-out blue eyes, and his gaze was almost tender. He seemed to be seeing something about her that she herself could not, measuring it, weighing it, giving it full and deliberate consideration. She could hear Gran's words screaming in her ear. When he comes for you. When he comes for you. The words faded into a high-pitched ringing that deafened her. She tried to break free of him, to bolt for the safety of the house, but his gaze held her fast. No matter how hard she struggled, she could not escape. She felt tears come to her eyes. Rage and frustration boiled up within her, but even these were not powerful enough to release her.
Then the demon cocked his head, as if his attention had been drawn away. He smiled at her, a quick, empty gesture, a reflection of some private amusement. He lifted his fingers to his lips and blew her a kiss off the tips. A moment later, he was gone, stepping back into the shadows in the lee of the garage and fading away.
Nest stood rooted in place, her hands shaking. She waited for him to reappear, to come for her as Gran had said he would. But nothing happened. The ringing in her ears faded, and she began to hear the sounds of the people in the park again, the robins singing in the trees in her yard, and the cars passing down Woodlawn Road
. She took a deep breath and held it, trying to still herself.
"Nest!"
John Ross limped slowly into view through the gap in the hedgerow from off the service road. A surge of relief flooded through her. She ran to him without thinking, racing across the backyard, barely able to contain the cry of gratitude that rose in her throat. Her legs churned and her arms pumped, and she threw off the last links of her immobilizing chains. She ran to outstrip her fear and revulsion, to leave them stymied and powerless in the wake of her quickness.
When she reached John Ross, she threw herself into his arms and clung to him.
"Hey, hey, it's all right," he said quickly, bracing himself with his staff, his free arm coming about her shoulders reassuringly. "What's wrong, Nest? Hey, stop crying."
She shook her head against his chest, fighting the tears, gasping for breath as she tried to speak. Everything washed out of her in a hot flush, all the rage and fear and horror and sadness of last night, evaporating like rainwater on hot concrete in the aftermath of a summer storm.
"I heard about your grandmother, and I came right out," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Nest. I wish I had known he would do this. I would have tried to prevent it. I know how you must feel. I know how hard it must be."
"I hurt so bad," she said finally, the words coming from her mouth in little gulps.
"It can't be any other way," he replied. "Not when you lose someone you love so much."
She shook her head slowly, rubbing her face against his shirt, still pressing against him. "Why did this happen? Why did he do it? Was he just trying to get back at her for what happened when she was a girl? Is that it?" The pitch of her voice began to rise and the words to come faster. "John, he was just here, standing down by the garage, staring at me. I couldn't move! If you hadn't come…"
"Nest, slow down, it's all right." He patted her back in an effort to calm her.
She clutched him more tightly. "Gran left a note, John. Just before she died. She knew what was going to happen. The note says the demon is coming for me, too. For me! Why?"
The words hung sharp-edged and immobile in the silence that followed. John Ross said nothing, but in doing so said everything. Nest felt the precipice she had sought to escape drawing near once more. Ross knew, but would not tell her. Like Gran, he had secrets to hide. Her resolve began to falter. She heard the screen door open and saw her grandfather emerge, looking for her. She felt besieged on all sides, boxed in by her ignorance and confusion. She had to know what was happening. She had to know before it was too late.
A surge of wild determination and reckless courage flooded, through her. "John," she said quickly, lifting her face away from his chest to look at him. Her heart pounded. "Are you my father?"
The pain that filled his eyes when she spoke the words was palpable. He stared at her with such intensity that it felt to her as if he was unable to convey with words what he was feeling.
"It's just that Gran seemed so suspicious and resentful of you," Nest hurried on, trying to make the answer easier for him, to let him tell her what she already knew was so. "I heard her talking to Grandpa. She was saying things that made it pretty clear… I'm not angry or anything, you know. I just… I just…"
He brought his hand to her face, resting the palm against her cheek. "Nest," he said softly. "I wish to God I were your father. I would be proud to be your father." He shook his head sadly. "But I'm not."
She stared at him in disbelief, feeling her expectation crumple inside and turn to despair. She had been so sure. She had known he was her father, known it from the way that Gran reacted to him, from the way he spoke of her mother, from his history, from his voice and eyes, from everything he was. How could he not be? How could he not?
Her grandfather came up behind them, and Nest turned toward him. He saw the stricken look in her face, and his jaw tightened. His eyes locked at once on John Ross.
"Morning, John," he said, a decided edge to his voice. He placed a reassuring hand on Nest's shoulder.
"Good morning, sir," Ross answered,, taking his own hand away.
"Is something wrong here?"
"No, sir. I just came by to offer my condolences. I'm very sorry about Mrs. Freemark. I believe she was a remarkable woman."
"Thank you for the kind words and for your concern." The old man paused. "Mind telling me what happened to your face?"
Nest, who had been staring at nothing, still stunned from learning that Ross was not her father, glanced up at him quickly and for the first time noticed the cuts and bruises.
"I was attacked by some men from MidCon at the dance last night," Ross said, giving a barely perceptible shrug. "It was a case of mistaken identity. They thought I was a company spy."
"A company spy?" Nest's grandfather looked incredulous. "The company doesn't have any spies. Who would they be spying on? For what reason?"
Ross shrugged again. "It's over now. I'm fine. I just wish I had been here for you and Nest."
Nest's grandfather looked at her. "You've been crying, Nest. Are you all right now?"
Nest nodded, saying nothing, feeling dead inside. She, looked at her grandfather, then looked quickly away.
Robert Freemark straightened and turned back to John Ross. "John, I have to tell you something. Evelyn wasn't all that warm toward you, I know. She thought that maybe you were someone other than who you claimed. She was suspicious of your motives. I told her she was being silly, that I thought you were a good man."
He shook his head slowly. "But I have to admit that a lot of strange things have happened since you arrived. Nest hasn't been herself for several days. Maybe she doesn't think I've noticed, but I have. Last night's events have made me think. A lot of things don't add up. I guess I need to ask you to explain some of them."
Ross met his frank gaze with a weary, distant look. He seemed to weigh the matter a moment before answering. "I think you deserve that much, Mr. Freemark."
Nest's grandfather nodded. Nest stepped back so that she could see them both, sensing the start of something that was not going to end pleasantly.
"Well, there's this business of the man who's been poisoning trees in the park." Robert Freemark cleared his throat. "Nest's friends told me about him when they came by to ask for my help in finding her." Quickly, he told John Ross what had happened. "They said she sent them first in search of you, making it pretty clear, I think, that you know about this man, too."
He paused, waiting. John Ross glanced at Nest. "I know about him. I came to Hopewell because I was tracking him."
"Tracking him?"
"It's what I do."
"You track people? Are you with the police? Are you a law-enforcement officer?"
Ross shook his head. "I work on my own."
Nest's grandfather stared. "Are you telling me, John, that you are a private detective? Or a bounty hunter?"
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