The Hunted (The Abandoned Series Book 1)

by C. J. Hart

  “You sure?” he says.

  “Yeah.”

  Ten minutes later, he returns with Eve’s coffee, a small pizza box, a muffin, and a paperback novel. The latter two, he presents to me. “In case you do get hungry. And bored.”

  A smile blooms on my features. “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Doctor Spencer!”

  He returns our grins, and then pivots to go.

  “Dad?” I say.

  “Yeah?”

  “Has anyone been asking for me?”

  He shrugs, yawns, and rubs his brow. “Not that I know of.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  Eve waits for him to leave before she pounces. “You’re expecting someone to call, aren’t you? Did you meet someone?” Her lips tug into a knowing smile.

  “Kinda.”

  She jumps up. “I knew it!”

  “How?” I reach for the muffin. Triple choc.

  “I—I just knew. Best friend intuition.” Giggling, she reclaims her seat.

  I tear open the packaging. “No such thing.”

  “Next, are you gonna tell me there’s no Cupid? Santa?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Lifting the lid on the pizza box with a pink manicured nail, she inspects its contents. She pulls out a slice. “So, who’s the Prince Charming?” A chunk of pepperoni falls into her lap.

  “No one you know.”

  “So?”

  I can’t tell her. I don’t know if I even believe it. A green-eyed creature of the night. A thing of mystery.

  “Is it Liam?” she says.

  I chuckle once. “I just said no one you know.”

  “Oh, right. I forgot.”

  “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Hmm.” She ogles me. “There’s something about this guy you’re not telling me, but okay!” She’s silent for a beat, but continues undeterred. “I told Miles you were here. She wanted to come, but she’s working a shift at Kool Kat Pizza.”

  “Tell her I’m fine?”

  “First thing when I get home,” she says. “Speaking of, I’d better go.” She collects her pizza and coffee.

  “Drive safe.”

  “I will. Have fun.” She smirks.

  “I’ll try.” Picking up the tattered copy of On the Road, I flick through it.

  What’s worse than being kept home from school? Having to spend the day with my father. Not that it’s the worse day of my life or anything, but I’d rather not spend it cooped up inside.

  “You think you can squeeze in another pancake?” he says.

  I shake my head and push away my plate, my stomach at its bursting point. “Not even another wedge.”

  “Me either.” He stores the rest of the batter in the fridge, and then turns to me. “Let’s go to that movie you’ve been going on about—Mayhem City?”

  “City of Mayhem, Dad,” I say. “And thought I was supposed to take it easy?”

  “Come on, Cass. Let’s do something fun.” He says it as if we don’t have fun, loitering near my chair.

  I think for a beat. “Can we go for ice cream after?”

  “Anything you want.”

  Feeling a lift in my mood, I grin. “Okay.” I rinse my plate, and then skip into my bedroom to change.

  ***

  The sun is low in the sky when we return, and an arctic breeze lingers. I rub at my bare arms as we climb the five steps to the house.

  “Ooh,” Dad says as he turns the key in the lock. “Looks like someone has a secret admirer.” Smirking, he nods towards the envelope wedged between the door and its frame. He passes it to me. Cassandra Spencer is scrawled across the front.

  Secret admirer? He has to be kidding. I stuff the envelope into my back pocket, just in case he isn’t.

  He pushes open the door. “Aren’t you gonna open it?”

  Not in front of him. “Nosy,” I tease and head for my room. I hear him chuckling in the kitchen.

  What is it about parents, that they must know everything?

  Perching on the edge of the bed, I examine the envelope. No indication of the author. I slide a finger under the flap, yanking it up. Inside is a single rectangle of paper, thick and somewhat creased. I pull it out.

  A shiver tumbles down my spine and settles in my toes as my eyes skip over the words:

  Stay away.

  From what? Did I stumble upon something I shouldn’t have, which I can’t recall? A secret fortress? The closet to Narnia? I roll onto the mattress and hug my knees to my chest. What—or whoever—it is I’m supposed to stay away from, I hope I won’t cross paths with them.

  I stretch and yawn as I traipse into the kitchen. “Morning.”

  “Good morning,” Mom says. She squeezes my arm, misery in her eyes.

  Dad sits at the counter, finishing off a plate of eggs. He glares at me.

  “What’s going on?” I say, sensing something looming.

  “We know about her,” he says.

  Not good. “Who?” I resist the urge to ball my hands or kick something.

  “Don’t play dumb, son.” He rises. “We know about the doctor’s girl.”

  I blow a slow, even breath through my lips. “How?” Not Kat, surely. He’s more like family to me than any blood relation.

  “Not important,” he says. “Something has to be done, son.”

  “Nothing can happen to her,” I say. “Not unless I order it.” I’m the leader of the current generation; what I say, goes.

  Mom’s fingers tighten on my bicep.

  He closes the gap between us in three strides. “You’re not their only leader. The tribe elders can give orders, too.”

  Unwillingly, my hands scrunch. “I won’t let anything happen to her,” I growl.

  “Not in your control anymore,” he says. “Best to forget about her. She’s as good as dead.”

  Sparks of white-hot heat arc through my body. Claws splinter my fingertips.

  “Seb.” Mom’s eyes plead.

  Too late. Fur erupts from my skin. Seb’s gone. I snarl at the man before me. No one can hurt her.

  Mom jerks away.

  “Get out of my house!” he says. “Go!” His face is a mask of pure revulsion. “You are not my son.”

  Mom is sobbing. “Jim, no!”

  Snapping at him again, I charge towards the hall. I have to check on her. I crash through the door and into the yard. She won’t know they’re coming. My legs propel me through the forest. Faster.

  How is it possible, that out of the millions of humans on this stupid planet, I chose her?

  Or did she choose me?

  Inevitable or simply poor luck?

  At the clearing, I pause, sampling the air around me. I can’t detect any fresh trails. Maybe Dad was kidding. No, he doesn’t joke like this. If the pack’s coming, they’ll be here when we least expect it. I reach her house, settling into the undergrowth to wait.

  Cassie

  I settle into the familiar worn chair on the porch and sip my tea. Warm memories run through my mind of Mom bringing me out here one afternoon when Dad was at the hospital. We gorged on sandwich quarters, and she braided my hair. We were like twins—same hair, eyes, and smile. Dad says I’m just as nosy and kind. If it hurts him to see a younger version of his wife every day, he doesn’t let on.

  God, I miss her. It’s been eleven years, and there’s still a hole burning in my heart.

  A branch behind me snaps. Ruffle, ruffle, snuff.

  My breath catches. Could it be? Turning my head slowly, I peek over my shoulder. I can just make out the shape of a wolf with spearmint-green eyes. I squint, in case it’s an illusion. He’s still there. Solid and true.

  I stand and make my way down the steps, one foot in front of the other—careful not to move too fast, to not scare him away. I should be running. But somehow, I know I’m safe. It’s that feeling of harmlessness again, tugging me forwards. I’m halfway when he steps out of the shadows, his head illuminated by the fading sun.

  If
I’m wrong about him, I’m dead.

  He begins to retreat.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I won’t hurt you.”

  His muscles freeze. I creep closer. He elevates his head to look at me. My hand reaches out to run a finger over his muzzle. He stills, hesitant as well, allowing me to comb my fingers through his fur. He’s bigger than an average wolf, comes up to about my shoulders. You’d think I’d be terrified.

  “There,” I say, “good wolfie.”

  He sighs, almost a purr. I lean down to touch my lips to the tip of his nose. “Come back tomorrow, and I’ll get you a snack.” Our freezer overflows with meat from Dad’s hunting trips.

  The front door opens, and Dad steps out. The wolf withdraws further into the bushes.

  “Cass, you’re gonna be late.” Dad waves his watch in the air.

  Sighing, I cast a glance at where the wolf had been. I know he is there, somewhere beneath the bracken. “Too bad you can’t come to work with me. Or drink coffee,” I whisper. “Java Joe’s is a real blast on Thursdays.” I trek back into the house, missing him already.

  ***

  When I arrive for my shift at Java Joe’s, it’s a madhouse. Tables overflow with customers, mostly Aeston High students and some parents, seated as far apart as they can possibly get in this quaint café.

  Eloise, fellow server and caffeine addict, slaps a piece of paper on the counter in front of me. “Two cappuccinos for table two, three lattes for five, one chai latte for four,” she says. “Everyone else wants shakes. I’ll do those.” She relocates to the milkshake maker. I tie on my apron and get to work.

  Someone shouts, “Oy, waitress! Another latte for table five!”

  I grit my teeth. Some people have no respect. Looking up, I see that Xavier, Miley’s boyfriend, is the culprit. I let it slide and scribble the order down. A second later, he’s in front of me.

  “Hey.” He smiles.

  “Hi.” I swivel to the coffee grinder, flipping the ON switch.

  “I see you’re better. Miles was worried.”

  “Mm. Everyone was, I guess.” The grinder clicks off.

  “I’ll tell her you’re okay. Back at school tomorrow?”

  “God, I hope so. I’ve run out of things to do,” I say. “I kinda hope there’s another assignment waiting for me.”

  He snickers and shakes his head. “No, please. No more assignments for the rest of the semester!”

  “Good luck with that. There’s still three weeks left. Then finals.”

  “Don’t sound so excited about it,” he teases. “At least school will be over for us seniors.”

  I shrug. “I’ve got nothing better to do with my afternoons.”

  He blows a sigh. “Eve’s right; you need a boyfriend.”

  I feel my smile wilt. “What?” Eve’s been talking about me? I do not need a boyfriend.

  “Oops, supposed to be a secret.” He backs away, apologies in his eyes.

  Irritation gushes and settles in my fists. “What are you talking about?” I think of climbing over the counter to reach him quicker, but I don’t.

  He retreats further.

  “Xay!”

  Heads pivot in my direction. I hate plans being made behind my back.

  Eloise approaches. “Better get those coffees out quick, the natives are getting restless.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Eve rambles on as we make our way to the cafeteria, jogging to keep up with me. I’ve blocked her out, in my own little world, thinking of ways to improve my lonely afternoons. I certainly don’t want to make Dad feel guilty of his absence. His job is imperative. And I’ve managed fine until now. Why am I questioning my habits? Oh, that’s right. Eve thinks I’m boring, in need of a male counterpart to have fun. Screw her and her likeminded buddies.

  Eve yanks on my arm. “Slow down! What’s with you? Are you even listening to me?”

  I shake her off. “I’m just so sick of everyone’s opinions of me. Cassie should have a boyfriend. Cassie’s a wolf freak. Blah blah blah!”

  “Jeez, calm down,” she says, casting her eyes around us, to see if anyone has noticed my meltdown. “I’m just being a friend. I know what it’s like to be lonely, Cass. It’s not pleasant.”

  “I’m not lonely.”

  “Sure, like I don’t recognize the signs,” she says. “Can we go to lunch?”

  Nodding, I trail behind her. What is wrong with me?

  In the cafeteria, I pile a salad, fries, and a cola onto my tray. Then we head for our usual table in the middle. The whole gang is here—Marcus, Tori, Liam, Miley, Xavier, and Whitney.

  Marcus spots me and rises. “Ah!” he gasps. “She is alive!” He gestures for me to take his seat.

  Next to Tori? Super.

  She shoots him a look, icicles and desperation. A mutual loathing.

  “How was your long weekend?” Marcus says, taking the empty seat next to Liam. “What did you do? Did your dad let you out at all?”

  I feel like shrinking in my chair. Too many questions.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Miley says. “Give the girl a break.” She smiles at me.

  “Thank you,” I mouth to her.

  She winks. “Xay and I saw City of Mayhem on Saturday.” A fan-girl scream escapes from her throat.

  I gulp my cola. “Me too.”

  “Was it awesome?” Eve says.

  I bob my head once. Miley leaps into an energetic review, hands gesturing wildly.

  While she gabs, Marcus commands my attention. “You comin’ to the game tonight?”

  I can feel Tori’s glare boring into the back of my skull. “Sorry. Working.” Okay, I’m not really sorry about missing a football game. Sports will never be my thing.

  “Oh, too bad. Next time, eh?”

  “Maybe.” If the world ends. Or if there’s nothing on TV, no homework, and I’ve run out of stuff to read. Whichever comes first.

  I let Miley sneak a fry, and then pretend to slap her hand away. She giggles but still reaches for another. I smirk, moving them out of her reach.

  Xavier takes Miley’s hand and raises it to his lips. He kisses her knuckles. “So, what’re everyone’s plans for the weekend?”

  “Marc and I are flying to New York to see Anthrax play,” Tori says.

  She’s the only one who calls him Marc. And he flinches every time.

  “That’s a fair way,” Whitney says between mouthfuls of his burger. “Staying overnight?”

  She flashes a lavish grin. “Yes. Actually, we’re staying at Dad’s hotel. Just minutes from the venue.”

  He owns a couple of hotels across the country and several of the finest restaurants surrounding them.

  “Cool,” Eve says.

  “Epic,” Xay adds.

  Liam is silent, as usual. Not that he’s shy. He just has nothing to add. And neither do I. I can’t pretend to be impressed like the others. Deceitfulness is not my thing either. I’m no fraud.

  “Miles and I are taking Zack and Lily to Adventureworld,” Xavier says.

  “Zack loves the rides,” Miley says. “And Lily will tag along anywhere he goes.”

  “Oh! That’s near one of our hotels!” Tori pulls out her cell phone. “I’ll call Dad and get him to reserve a couple of rooms.”

  “We already have a room booked elsewhere,” Miley says. “Sorry, Tor.”

  “No problem.” She drops her cell back into her bag.

  Eve sips her lemonade. “I’m going to Mom’s gallery opening.”

  “Oh, me too. Mom’s making me go.” Whitney spins Eve’s bottle cap, his eyes on it. “Maybe we could, I don’t know, meet up?”

  She falters, stunned. “Sure.” Her astonished eyes meet mine.

  I wink at her. She grins, and I can almost see the thoughts sprinting through her mind. Is this a date? What to wear? How to respond?

  Liam shrugs and mumbles as he writes in his notebook, “Fixing the Camaro.”

  I forget that I’m the last person. Six pairs of eyes cut to me.<
br />
  I stop shoveling fries into my mouth. “Oh,” I say. “Um.” I try to think up something other than tearing through the Divergent trilogy that Dad got me. But I don’t have a rich father or an artistic mother. “Miley and I are having lunch on Sunday.”

  Her head snaps up. “We are?”

  “Yes, we are.” I arch both my eyebrows for emphasis.

  “Oh, yes. How silly of me to forget.”

  The bell tolls. There’s a mad rush of students, excited for whatever their next class is—though some loiter behind, not so eager.

  Miley drags me to history—Liam, Marcus and Whitney not far behind.

  ***

  I decide shopping will quell my worries of earlier doubts. And the two new pairs of shoes and the collection of books does. But a coffee and a snack will help further. I push through the doors to the café.

  Joe, the owner, eyes me. “Don’t you get enough of this place during the week?” he scoffs.

  “Point me in the direction of better coffee and I’m there,” I say. “But until then, I’d like to place an order.”

  He rolls his eyes and ushers Eloise over.

  “Hey, Cass,” she says. “What’s up?”

  “You know, just doing some shopping.”

  She smiles. “Cool, cool.”

  “Can you get me a mocha latte and a banana muffin?” I lean against the counter, forearms stretched in front of me.

  “Sure.”

  Pandemonium surges behind me. Customers chitchatting over coffee. A flood of new patrons bustles in. I sneak a look over my shoulder. A boy in a gray beanie enters, and then one with red-orange hair, like a crown of flames. Four others join them, looking like they wish to be elsewhere, glancing around at the customers with distaste. They take up two tables in the back. Each has a carved, bone-white pendant hanging from thin, leather straps around their necks. I turn back as the beanie boy approaches. He’s twice my height.

  “Can I help you?” Eloise says.

  “Large cappuccino and an apple Danish,” he says.

  “Sure.” She slides my order across the counter.

  “Thanks,” I say, reaching for a packet of sugar.

  Another hand, light cocoa brown, has the same idea. Our fingers touch briefly. Sparks shoot through my body like an electric shock, muddling my thoughts.