by Shea Berkley
“Ed,” Grandpa says, his tone pushing closer to aggravation as he holds the older man back. “I was there.”
“You have connections to both parties, which will pollute the investigation. One more reason why we need to bring in someone else. A specialty unit. Like a bomb squad or an arson team or the FBI.”
The crowd focuses in on the men, and Kera moves restlessly at my side. “They’re very angry. Should we do something?”
“Nah,” Leo says with a smile. “Mr. Tanner goes off like this all the time. It’s better than going to the movies.” Leo nudges me. “I bet you ten bucks Wyatt’s dad messes that little man up.”
Big and brawny over small and wiry. It’s a risky bet. “All I’ve got is a five.” We bump fists, and I say, “Betcha Mr. Tanner’s faster than Wyatt’s old man.”
“Doesn’t matter, bro. One good hit and the little guy’s out.”
Leo convinces Kera to help me to the porch railing, while behind us Grandma sighs. “Honestly, grown men behaving like children. It’s enough to make me fetch my frying pan and bust some sense into their heads.”
She sounds disgusted, but like the rest of us, she’s drawn to the drama.
Tanner throws a punch and it misses. Leo and I holler along with the crowd. Kera stiffens at my side.
Grandpa’s hand flexes against the other man’s chest and he gives him a stern glare. “I won’t warn you again. Stop now before it’s too late.”
Insults fly and Mr. Cavanaugh pushes against Wyatt while Grandpa stands toe-to-toe with Mr. Tanner, one hand firmly on the man’s puffed-out chest. Grandpa twists and points his other hand at Wyatt’s dad, telling him to calm down. There’s so much yelling and posturing, I’m certain there’s going to be a big blowup.
Grandpa addresses the crowd and orders them to leave, threatening to arrest anyone who’s even thinking of getting involved. That’s enough to settle most of them down, and those who don’t are dragged away by friends.
“Getting rid of witnesses, George? Should I be concerned?”
“Shut up, Ed. I’m doing you a favor. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
Mr. Tanner struggles against Grandpa, shouting obscenities and challenging them all to keep him quiet. Wyatt struggles to calm his dad down, but it’s not working.
Kera shakes her head and heads down the steps.
“Stop her, Dylan,” Grandma commands, like I have any control over what Kera does.
Leaning over the rail, I reach for her, but she’s too quick. “Kera? What are you doing?”
“What’s she doing?” Leo repeats my question.
“Getting into trouble…as usual.” What does she think she can do that everyone else can’t?
She approaches Wyatt’s dad, touches him, and tells him to calm down. In mid-tirade, his outrage deflates like a day-old party balloon. When she turns to Mr. Tanner, he eyes her warily, but she doesn’t back down. She touches his arm and looks innocently up at him. “No one blames you. Accidents happen.”
At her touch, all the bluster leaves him. “Accidents happen?”
Kera nods. Grandma’s hand flutters to her throat and Grandpa’s eyes grow round.
Leo and I exchange glances. “Can you do that?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” There’s so much I don’t know about what Kera and I can and can’t do. I never considered the possibility we could control others with our magic.
“Try it on me.”
I touch his arm and calmly say, “You want to sing show tunes.”
“Show tunes?” He sloughs off my hand. “That is so wrong.”
“Figures it doesn’t work on someone like you.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“You’re just...you, you know?”
“No, I don’t, and I don’t want to know.”
We turn back in time to hear Grandpa say, “That’s a fine idea, Ed. You should go home.” His voice is tense and raspier than I’ve ever heard it.
He steers Mr. Tanner toward his vehicle. The whole time the older man stares at Kera, confusion glazing his eyes, his mouth opening and shutting like a guppy in oxygen depleted water. “I…I don’t see how—”
“I know,” she says and pats his arm. “No one blames you.”
Grandpa settles the man behind the wheel, and before he closes the door, he leans down. “This was an accident, Ed. A sad, unavoidable accident that could have killed someone. We’re damn lucky it didn’t.”
The man looks at Kera, then nods, and Grandpa closes the door. After Mr. Tanner drives off, Grandpa and Kera join Grandma, Leo, and me on the porch. “What are we going to do?” Grandma asks.
Grandpa turns to Kera. “You used some woo-woo on him, didn’t you?”
“I only projected a sense of calmness onto both of them.”
“Will he forget about all this?”
She shrugs. “Humans are easily manipulated if they aren’t careful. It depends on him.”
“Ed’s about as mulish as they come. He’ll be back.”
Wyatt approaches. “I’m going to take my dad home.” He stares at Kera. “I don’t know what you did…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, only stares at Kera for a moment before leaving. Kera watches him go, scratching her arm until tiny red streaks appear. “He knows about us.”
I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, I almost blew him up. That’s kind of a dead giveaway.”
Grandma, yakking about crazy people doing crazy things, takes Grandpa inside, and soon it’s just Leo, Kera, and I.
Leo turns around and leans his elbows on the railing, gazing up at the porch ceiling. “I’m shamefully disappointed there wasn’t a fight,” Leo says with a grin that enters his voice. “I could’ve used the money. I got a date.”
“I nearly swallowed my tongue when he mentioned Jason,” I admit.
“Bro, my dad says Carl Delgato plays poker every Thursday, and since Jason disappeared, he hasn’t missed a night. He’s not even looking for his son. That’s messed up, huh?”
Jason’s and my life are more similar than I first thought. Until I came here, if I had gone missing, no one would have bothered finding me either. The thing is, I know where Jason is. I have unfinished business concerning him, and if I don’t see it through soon, his spirit will haunt my dreams until I do.
Leo nods at my leg. “How’re you doing?”
I test it out and there’s only a small twinge when I bounce on it. “Good enough.”
Leo glances at Kera, then quickly away. He does it several more times, until I notice how quiet she’s become. Unusually quiet. “You okay, baby?” I ask.
She nods and quickly looks away.
Leo sighs. “I’m going to say it. Cool mind trick, Kera, but kind of creepy.”
Kera rubs her hand across the smooth, white painted railing and still doesn’t say anything. I have to agree with Leo, but I can’t publicly. I’m beginning to see Kera is having more problems adjusting to the infusion of magic than I thought. “Seriously, are you okay?”
She bites her lip, rubs her wrist, and nods. “A lot has happened today.”
“You can say that again,” Leo says, “and we’ve still got six more hours to go.”
Kera moves around me and whispers something in Leo’s ear I can’t quite catch. Okay, that’s plain weird. I stand straight and face Leo. “What’s this? I’m comatose for half a day and you steal my girl?”
Leo throws up his hands. “Bro, you can trust me. I’ve been…” He slices a question at Kera. “You going to tell him?”
She pales and shakes her head. I feel a spike of fear run through her, and I straighten. “You’re keeping secrets?”
“Not for long.” Leo looks out over the front lawn where the iron statues used to stand. Now they’re all scrubbed to raw iron and near the entrance to Teag, hopefully keeping us safe from any rogue firsts.
Kera turns her big violet eyes on me. “Do you trust me?”
“Yeah.” I don’t even have to think about it, but
I’m wondering if I should.
Up until now, the people in my life have been more interested in themselves than me. I’m not averse to having a relationship, just not a fake one. I know how to deal with the rejection when I’m expecting it; it’s the getting my hopes up when I meet someone I think I can trust, and then having those illusions crushed that’ll drop me to my knees.
But with Kera, I have a unique bond. We instantly clicked. It’s that mystical thing everyone talks about, but no one believes is true. It’s what Romeo had for Juliet. What Isolde had for Tristan. What Lancelot had for Guinevere. They’re all tragic lovers, which should make me stop and reconsider my path, but my love for Kera is different. It’s real...though, like me and my magic, it must have limits. I don’t know what those limits are, and I’m not in a rush to find out.
Kera kisses my cheek. “I’ll tell you soon, I promise. Just remember, I can’t abide suffering.”
I turn to Leo. “What does that mean?”
He shakes his head. “Chick thing. If I were you, I wouldn’t try to dissect it.” He gives a sharp wave good-bye and starts down the porch stairs. “I’ve got to go clean out the back of my truck. It stinks like dead meat.”
Kera waves and says in a quiet, sweet voice, “Thank you, Leo.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He waves back and disappears around the corner of the house.
I turn, fold my arms across my chest, and lean my hip against the rail to watch Kera. She’s found another animal and this one is carnivorous? Her cheeks pinken as I continue to stare. She won’t look at me. “Kera, did you find another animal?”
She dips her head and still won’t make eye contact.
“Let me rephrase that. It’s not a secret. We know what you’ve done.”
“You know?”
“Bringing Leo into it was the tip-off. Grandpa says you can’t keep it. It’s not right. Dangerous, even.”
Her obsession with the cute and cuddly is sweet, but what if the animal turns aggressive? What if it has rabies? Has she thought of that? Does she know about that kind of thing?
She slides her hands along my crossed arms, slips her fingers between mine, and brings our hands together until we’re palm to palm and toe to toe. The misery on her face reflects her dilemma. “I’m not trying to keep him. He won’t leave.”
Having her this close is distracting. The smell of her. The way her lips tip up at the corners. The softness of her skin beneath my fingertips. I force myself to stay on topic. “You’re feeding him, that’s why.”
“But he’ll die if I don’t.” She steps closer, pressing her body against mine. “Or worse, he’ll start eating things he shouldn’t.”
“I know the little guy is probably cute and all, but if people around here find out what you’re doing, they won’t take the same view. They’ll say it’s a pest—it’ll destroy things—and some will say it’s better off dead.”
She instantly pulls away, horrified. “You would kill him? Truly?”
The sudden, yawning space between us throws my senses into a panic. I want her back in my arms, close and cuddling.
“Not me,” I quickly say. “I could never hurt anything you cared for.”
The lines on her face relax and she steps closer, running her hands up my arms to my shoulders. “I promise he won’t be a bother. I have him tied up in the woods. He won’t go near anyone. I’ve made sure.”
“Tying up a wild animal isn’t the answer.”
“He’s only a little wild. Truly, he needs me.”
“You can’t keep him.”
She drops her head to my chest, and I feel like a jerk trying to contain her loving, free spirit. I let out a heavy sigh. I’m going to regret this, but I can’t stop myself from saying, “Fine. Do what you have to do, but then—”
She jumps in my arms, cutting me off, and strangles my neck as she places kisses all over my face. I am sooo whipped. The funny thing is, I don’t care. I’ll do anything to make her happy. I wrap my arms around her and bring my lips to hers. She has the softest lips…
I stop thinking about everything except getting close, sliding my hands down and over her hips and pulling her closer.
The front door opens and a gasp sounds. “Dylan! Hands!”
We jerk apart, but I don’t let Kera go. I slide my arm around her waist and give it a reassuring squeeze. Kera gives me an innocent smile, not in the least bit upset about getting caught with my hands on her butt.
I smile back, and shoot a sheepish glance at the not-so-amused woman at the door. I clear my throat. “Sorry, Grandma.”
She shakes her head, knowing I’m not, and approaches us. “Kera, sweetheart.” She takes her hand and pulls her away from me. “Will you help me finish preparing dinner? It’s almost ready.”
“Of course.” Kera kisses me one last time. “You should rest.”
“Yes.” Grandma opens the door and ushers Kera in, then looks back at me, an adorable scowl on her face. “He’s had a busy day.”
I smile and follow them inside. “You keep telling me to keep busy and not be narcissistic, whatever that is.”
“You know perfectly well what that word means. Egocentric self-absorption leads to recklessness, and my goodness, you’ve been reckless today.”
On my way through the kitchen, I give her a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll do better.”
“Hmmm.” She pulls down a pot from the cabinet and eyes me skeptically. “One can only hope.”
…
The next day passes with little drama. The barrier is quiet. It’s a nice change of pace. Kera leaves to tend to her new pet in the woods. I don’t press her about it. She knows I’m right, that she can’t keep it, and I trust she’ll do the right thing. Midmorning, Wyatt arrives. We run. We spar. We keep it mellow, mostly because my technique isn’t stellar, though my speed and strength impress him. I make the mistake of asking after his brother, Reece.
“No sign of him.” He busies himself with the gear he’s stowed in the back of his truck. Poking through this, pulling out that. I can only guess what he has planned next for me.
I shake my head and wipe the sweat from my forehead. “Do you know where he could be?”
“Not a clue.” Turning back to me, his mouth thins. “Dad’s pissing mad and Mom’s worried. It’s not like Reece to leave without saying something.”
“You’re really worried about him.”
He gives me a funny look. “Yeah. My family’s tight.”
Definitely something I can’t say about Mom and me. Thinking about it makes my chest heavy and my throat thick. “It’s only my mom and me. I don’t have any idea where she is. Funny thing is, with all the shit she’s put me through, I still don’t hate her. If that’s not a kick in the ass, I don’t know what is.”
By the nervous expression on Wyatt’s face, I’ve just broken Bro Code Number 7: Never, under any circumstances but death, give out too much emotional information.
It’s not like he doesn’t know about Mom. He’s just a stereotypical guy who lives by the Army rule of suck it up.
And then he surprises me by slapping me on the shoulder. “I never should have said all that stuff about your mom. Her leaving doesn’t mean she doesn’t care. Her issues run deep.”
“Center of the earth deep.” My throat is so tight, air uncontrollably jags into my lungs.
He squeezes my shoulder again and pulls away. “Yeah, well, sometimes you’ve got to let go and let them get their act together.”
It’s nice of him to try, but he doesn’t get it. I let go of Mom years ago. Only some odd sense of guilt kept her close, but as soon as she got over that unexpected sensation, she ran like a dog seeking a hidden stash of bones.
Wyatt pulls out a harness and straps it onto me, then affixes the end of the harness to a wide board with footholds screwed to the top of it. “I call this dogging it.”
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what I’m supposed to do. “I’m going to pull you, aren’t I?”
“Y
ep. Don’t act so depressed,” he says, fitting his feet to the footholds. “This’ll be fun.”
His idea of fun and mine are not the same.
By late afternoon, I’m totally spent. I don’t feel as jittery. Maybe this whole “keep him exhausted” strategy will actually work.
Ensconced on the couch in front of the television, I channel surf, not really paying attention to what I’m seeing. Kera just got back from walking her new pet in the woods, and she’s helping Grandma in the kitchen. I’m relaxed. Happy. I actually have people who care about me. It’s a little unnerving. I’m not used to the attention. Seriously, how long can it last? So far, all the crap that’s been flying in my life since I arrived hasn’t turned them away. It’s kind of amazing.
Amid the familiar noise of canned laughter, yawn-able news headlines, and catchy commercial music, I hear a sharp, irregular tapping. Tilting my head, I try to locate the sound.
Across the room toward the big picture window.
The tapping is definitely coming from that area. The shades are down and only a sliver of light peeks out along the bottom edge. I grab the back of the couch and vault over it, my Nikes landing soundlessly on the wooden floor. As I approach, I duck to peer beneath the shade. A pair of black googly eyes stares back at me from the other side of the window.
With a strong yank on the shade pull, the window cover flies up to reveal a mole of a man with a big head and overly large hands and feet huddling against the side of the house, his usually pale skin now a dark umber. Bodog. I quickly crank open the window and pop out the screen. Bending deeply, I lean over the windowsill and yank the little guy into the house, where he slumps against himself as if his small stature is too large for the room.
He’s shivering. I don’t know why. It’s 75 degrees—a downright hot day for the wilds of Oregon.
“What are you doing here?” My demand is ignored. I get closer and try to pin down his wide-eyed gaze.
The little man snuffles around seeking shadows to hide in. He bumps into a bookshelf and a few books topple loose. Ducking, he lets out a sharp squeal. I snatch the books before they hit and put them back. When I turn my attention back to Bodog, he’s hiding under Grandpa’s desk. What happened to the little man who braved the torture chamber to rescue me? Something is really wrong.