The Hunted (The Abandoned Series Book 1)

by C. J. Hart

  “Dad.”

  “Seb and Kat being the exception.”

  “Yes, well, you’re just gonna have to get used to it,” I say to her.

  She prances out of the room, tail down.

  Dad’s smile is forced, glum. “It’s been a long time since there were other people in this home.”

  The house grows quiet. I get up and rinse my plate, stow it in the dish rack. Will Seb be back in time? I don’t know if I can survive the day without him. And how will I explain to his mother why he didn’t come with me to meet her?

  But at 9:15, my hopes come true.

  Like old times, Seb appears at my bedroom window. He’s trying to make me smile. And I do, but tears quickly follow. My feet scrape across the floorboards, towards him. I open the window—Dad had taken the nails out last week.

  “Would your dad mind if I came in?”

  I try to recall what I said when he asked me that before. “What he doesn’t know…”

  He climbs in. “Well, he does know. I rang and told him I’ll be climbing through your window.” He drags me into a tight embrace.

  “Sneaky.” I constrict my arms around his waist.

  “How’re you doin’?” His gaze drops to my lips.

  “Better than I thought.” I bury my face in his black, button-down shirt. “But it might be a different story when I see everyone else upset.” Breathing in his scent, I let the comforting, earthy aroma wash over me as he rubs gentle circles into my back. “Are you okay?” I feel his chest shake with laughter.

  He releases me and extends his arms, displaying his already-silver scars. “Yes, I’m fine, Cass.”

  Dad calls up the stairs, “Are you dressed?”

  I stare down at my polka dot pajamas. “Yes.”

  “Liar,” Seb mouths, his lips curling upwards.

  “Miley will be here soon,” Dad says.

  “I’m coming!” I slink over to my closet, pulling out my black dress. “Why are funerals so drab?”

  “Um. ’Cuz someone died?”

  “I get that, but I’ve always thought we should be celebrating their life, not mourning the loss. Eve would want a massive party.”

  “And you? What would you want?” His arms curl around me again.

  “I guess immortality is too much to ask for.” I think for a moment. “A suitcase full of books to read on the journey to wherever I’m going?” Heaven, hell—what’s the difference anymore?

  He chuckles and kisses my forehead.

  I melt into him. I can never get enough of this. I used to be the girl who didn’t need a big, strong man to love her. But that Cassie was wrong. “I’ll need you to help me with the zipper,” I say as I tug the curtains closed.

  He spins away.

  I peel off my pajamas. Chucking the hanger onto my bed, I slip into the dress. “Okay.”

  He turns back, his eyes assessing me. “You look good. Too bad it’s under these circumstances.”

  “Thanks.” I pivot on the ball of my foot, my back facing him, and gather my hair out of his way.

  His fingers pinch the sides of the zipper together as he jerks up the tab. Then they brush along my shoulders, lingering on the back of my neck. My skin tingles as he presses his lips there.

  “You’re ready.”

  “My hair.” I wheeze a sigh. “Can you braid it?” I look at him through the mirror on my dresser and he nods.

  Seb

  It seems the whole town has showed up for Eve. When Cassie sees this, her eyes widen and a sob catches in her throat. I reach for her hand. Xavier takes Miley’s. Cass links her arm with Whitney’s and catches my eye.

  She doesn’t have to worry; I’m not jealous. I’m touched. Her compassion is boundless, and not just today.

  As we enter the church, two ladies hover by the door with serving trays. On one, mini bagels with what looks like strawberry jam. The other, chocolate chip cookies.

  Cass whispers in my ear, “They were Eve’s favorites.” She takes a cookie and tucks it into her purse for later.

  We find a pew with enough space for all five of us, and Kat squeezes in beside me.

  “Why’re you here?” I say to him. “You didn’t even know the girl.”

  He shrugs. “I like to support my friends.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Chatter settles down as the priest takes his place. I tuck my girlfriend under my arm, and she imprisons Whitney’s fingers in her hand. I see Miley on his other side do the same.

  The priest reads from the scriptures, “‘I am the resurrection and life,’ saith the Lord; ‘he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.’” He goes on to read Psalm 23, and then looks up at the mourning crowd. “Too soon, Evelyn Anne was taken from us,” the priest says. “Too soon, her family lost an angel. Known as Eve to everyone, and Evie to her best girlfriends, Miley and Cassandra—”

  A shiver rolls through Cass at the mention of her name. She always hates it when people call her Cassandra.

  “—she was the incomparable daughter of Hazel and Bruce, the loving sister of Riley, and an incredible friend to all.”

  Cass’ hand balls on her thigh, trying hard to keep a brave face. I pry her fingers open and wrap them around my hand. Even if she squeezes so hard that she breaks my bones, they’ll be healed in a matter of days. Hers, not so much.

  I watch her as the priest talks about Eve’s stint as a fashion model before working at Rocky Roads, her straight As in her classes, and her patience with her brother Riley, who battles with Asperger’s. As each word sinks in, Cass loses a bit of her calm façade, until her name is called.

  “Cassandra Spencer,” the priest says, “has written a passage on behalf of herself, Miley Sparks, Marcus Wyatt, Whitney Jarvis, and Victoria Barnett.”

  Cass trembles, and then looks at me. “Come with me?”

  I nod and guide her towards the front.

  She slides a creased sheet of paper from her purse, spreads it out on the lectern, and gazes at people before her. She clears her throat, tries to make sense of the words in front of her. “Evie was the best friend a girl could ever have.” She swipes away a tear. “She was always kind, gracious. Always happy to hang out, whether it was at home or at the cinemas.” Her fingers dig into the wooden stand. She stares at the paper. Then she sucks in a deep breath and, looking at Eve’s parents, she deviates from what was prepared. “I hate the term was. It implies that something is in the past, that it doesn’t exist anymore.” She pauses. “Well, I can’t think of Eve that way. She may be gone, but she still exists—in me, in all of us.” She detaches a hand from the lectern and presses it to her heart. “She exists. In our thoughts. In our hearts.” A sob escapes her throat. “In our memories. We keep her alive.” She clamps her eyes shut, tears now pouring out. “Hazel, Bruce, Riley.” She blinks to clear her vision. “On behalf of Miley, Whitney, Xavier, Tori, Marcus, and myself, we’d like to thank you. For always being so welcoming. And for raising such a beautiful daughter.” She bunches up the eulogy, “Thank you,” and collapses into my waiting arms.

  I steer her outside, into the fresh air, away from everyone, waiting for her to calm. I sit on a bench and haul her into my lap. “You did great, Cass. It was beautiful.”

  She sniffles. “Thanks. I went a little off road, didn’t I? Probably made a fool of myself.”

  “Just a little detour. But I thought that was the best part. And since when do you care what others think of you?”

  “I don’t.” A tepid breeze ruffles her golden locks.

  I smooth back her fringe. “You wanna go?”

  She thinks for a moment, her brow wrinkling. “I don’t think I can bear hearing ‘earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust’ after what I just said about Eve living on.”

  “Lunch?” I press a kiss to her cheek.

  She’s quiet again. “Somewhere away from here—but close enough for us to return for your mom in time.” Her lips s
kim over mine. “Let’s just drive.”

  She sits on the third bench from the entrance, clutching her bag in her lap, eyes darting over every person who passes. I recognize her because she has Seb’s nose and his oval face. Her eyes are kind, and her hair is down to her waist. She is everything I pictured his mother to be.

  When she sees him, her face brightens, a grin spreading across her features. She runs to him. “My boy, my son!” She slams into him, curling her arms around his shoulders.

  He releases my hand to steady her. “Mom.” He tucks her head under his chin as he does to me sometimes.

  I watch the reunited mother and son, pleased that it finally happened. Because there are some children that cannot be reunited with their parent. Me, for example. I have Dad and that is perfectly fine, but sometimes, sometimes, I just need a mother.

  She turns to me, remembering I’m there.

  “Mom, this is Cassie,” Seb says. “Díí shich’áayaa íí’áhí át’é!”

  Meaning—this is my girlfriend.

  Her irises burn with sorrow for a moment, for missing out on things she’s entitled to as a mother, but then shift back to joy. “Honored to meet you.”

  “Nice to finally meet you, too,” I say. “I heard a lot about you.”

  She smiles and hugs me.

  “This’s the one I risked everything for.” Seb’s fingers brush over my palm, knotting in mine.

  “Sit?” She reaches for my other hand and leads us over to the bench. “How are you both? Good?”

  For once, I don’t know what to say.

  But Seb does. “Cassie’s best friend was killed—the one that was on the news.”

  “Oh.” She throws an arm over my shoulders. “Poor dear.”

  “And I’m living with Cass’ godparents.”

  I manage a light giggle.

  He pokes my side. “She thinks it’s funny because I had no idea that they were before I moved in.”

  “Coincidental,” I say. “But they’re really good people. They look after him well.” I roll my eyes. “And feed him.”

  She laughs.

  He shuffles his feet. “What? I like eating.”

  “For breakfast the other morning, he made my dad and me the pancakes and syrup you taught him.”

  Her eyes widen, and then she looks away from us. “I missed him very much.” She turns to me. “Thank you for looking after him, making him happy. Your momma must be proud of you.”

  “Mom.” Seb shakes his head, a warning.

  “Hm?” Her gaze swerves between us. “What did I say?”

  I stare at my fingers twisted with his. “My mom passed away a long time ago. Cancer.” Why should I have to keep bearing this cross? I swallow hard and break away from them, wanting a moment of solace. When I turn back, they’re both waiting, patient, concerned. “Sorry.”

  “She’s been through a lot today,” he says.

  She nods, as if she bears my pain too. God, they are so alike! I smile and wedge myself between them again. I love them both.

  Something flashes across his features, and a moment later, it’s gone. “Alyssa said the pack’s been hanging around?”

  She bobs her head once. “Trying to scare your father and me, I think. The elders are on our back, too, pressuring your father to get you back.”

  We stay until the sun begins to set, agreeing to meet again soon, and then Seb takes me home. Dad’s permitted him to stay over again, even allows him to set up a camping mattress beside my bed. I figure he feels sorry for me having to endure not only a funeral, but also that of my best friend’s. I think Seb and I deserve a little leeway, to be trusted. It’s not as if we’re going any further with things while Dad is in the other room. He should know that, at least.

  Uncle Scott slaps me on the back. “You’ll be alright, Cass,” he says. “Things will get better.” He’s staying the night, too. Some company for Dad.

  After a shower, I curl up next to Seb. He strokes my damp hair. Words are not needed, and I’m glad. I’ve expended today’s quota. I just want to try to sleep, to dream, to forget. Our lips meet and I drag myself closer, wanting not an inch between us. His hand dips under my shirt, tasting the skin on my lower back, stroking light arcs across it. My fingers weave into his hair. I breathe in his earthy scent, of spearmint and sage, as his lips trail over my cheek and down my neck. Lower, lower.

  Tap tap tap.

  The raven.

  I untangle myself from Seb, annoyed, and glare at the window. Kat waves at us.

  Seb groans and plods over, hefting up the window. “What?”

  “I swear,” Kat says. “Didn’t see nothin’.”

  I cross the room, narrowing my eyes at him. “The fact that you felt you had to say something means you did.”

  “Pervert.” Seb punches his arm. “Whatcha want?”

  “I wanna hunt. Want you to come with.”

  “Now? Can’t it wait?”

  I crawl back into bed. “Go.”

  “You sure?” he says.

  I nod. “Go on.”

  His lips skim across my forehead.

  “Hurry back,” I say, stifling a yawn.

  Seb smirks and slips onto my balcony.

  I should get up and lock the window—he would want me to—but slumber weighs heavy on me. After two minutes, I’m nearly dragged under. Then I see a figure drop onto the redwood.

  Seb’s back! I sit up, waiting for him to come in. Another thirty seconds pass before he slithers in.

  Not Seb. Ash.

  Do I run? Scream? Maybe Seb’s still outside and he’ll hear me. Or Dad and Scott will.

  But no, there isn’t an escape when Ash has his eyes set on you.

  “Hello again,” he says, lips curled into a sullen smile.

  “Seb’ll be back in a minute.”

  He shakes his head. “No, he won’t.”

  Ambush! Ambush! the little voice inside screams again.

  I should’ve locked the damn window.

  “Cassie.” He sits on the edge of the mattress, too close for comfort. “You’ve been a very naughty girl, haven’t you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “You corrupted our dear Sebby.” He picks up my arm, examining the four almost invisible scars from his nails.

  “And now I must pay?” I joke, trying to twist my arm free.

  His eyes float to mine. Nails pierce my skin. Blood bubbles up immediately. I whimper and bite down on my lip to squelch further cries.

  “Hush. We don’t want to alert dear daddy now, do we?”

  I shake my head, eyes never leaving his.

  “Good girl.” He drags his nails over the scars, creating fresh wounds. Over my wrists.

  They’ll think I committed suicide. But Seb will know the truth. And he’ll rip Ash to shreds. Still, this comforts me little. He lifts a finger to his mouth, tasting my blood.

  My stomach churns. “You’re disgusting,” I spit.

  He laughs and releases my arm. “Bad girls deserve to be punished.” His fingers turn to claws—akin to a bear’s.

  Seb, where’re you? I kick out, trying to get away—it’s no use.

  Ash strikes, talon shredding my pajama top, slicing my flesh. I open my mouth to scream, a reflex, and he clamps a hand over my mouth.

  He touches a finger to his lips. “Shh.” The claw rakes over my thigh. “Wanna see what I did to the other girl, your friend?” He peels a slice of my skin off and drops it into his mouth.

  I tremble with terror, my wounds stinging, crimson leaking onto my butterfly sheets like a crime scene. There’s a heat creeping through my body, fixing me in place. And there’s not a thing I can do. I’m paralyzed. I’m going to die. Like Eve.

  He peels off more skin. I’m his after-dinner snack. Or maybe the appetizer. More, more.

  Tears crash down my cheeks—I can’t stop them. “Please,” I whisper through his hand.

  “Hush, Cass.” He smiles again. “No need to fear.” His hand drops from my mouth, brushing my hair back.
/>
  I turn my head away from his touch, and his smile blooms.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” He seems to love hearing the sound of his voice, maybe I can get him talking, get him to slip up. He’s arrogant enough to think he can get away with this.

  “I’ve been doing a little research.” Another strip of my skin. “You see, we are born like this. We have no choice. It’s our nature to kill, taunt. But humans can also be turned. I only have to bite you.”

  “Turned?” It sinks in. “You’re not going to kill me.” I snicker. “You’re a dumbass. You really shouldn’t have said that.” I suck in a deep breath, and I scream. I scream because my human life depends on it.

  He realizes, a beat too late, that I outsmarted him. His movements are quick, precise—he snatches my arm, sinking his teeth into my wrist.

  I scream again, this time from the pain as it radiates past my elbow. A crackling white heat. It bubbles up my arm and roars in my ears.

  My bedroom door cracks against the adjacent wall. Uncle Scott bursts in, yielding the silver knife. If only he were on duty, he could’ve shot the bastard.

  My grip on this world is slipping, my vision blurring, ears humming. I can just make out Uncle Scott. Ash slipping out of the window. And the angels singing the hymns of Heaven.

  My lips are dry, and the heat, the venom, is slithering up my neck. Soon, I won’t be able to move my lips. I try to swallow. “Seb.”

  Uncle Scott drops to his knees beside me. “Oh God, Cass.” He rips the top sheet from the bed and tears it into strips, tourniquets.

  “Seb.” My voice is barely a whisper now.

  “Where is he?”

  “They took him. He…” My vision blackens, and the pain disappears. Seb. Wherever he is, I hope he knows I love him.

  The dark engulfs me.

  Two days after that night, I’m visiting her at the hospital when she says, “Seb, take me outside?”

  And because I’m wracked with guilt, I’ll do anything for her. I acquire a wheelchair and roll her out into the little courtyard. She winces as we go over a bump in the bricks.

  “Sorry,” I say, flinching with her.