by Natasha Deen
“Sometimes I protect you. Sometimes you protect me. It’s called friendship. You have enough going on, without adding more weight on your shoulders.” She laid on the horn, again.
A couple of deputies came out of the station next door, saw what was happening, and cleared the crowd.
“Anyway, the day I need you to save me is the day—” She stopped. “Forget it, that day’s never coming. Let’s find Serge.” Nell drove through the streets, starting with Running Creek Road. The headlights of her car lit up a figure walking along the shoulder.
“Is that—?” She flipped on her blinker, honked the horn, and pulled over.
Craig turned, waved, and jogged toward us.
I wasn’t sure what to do. Part of me wanted to run into his arms and hide from the world. Part of me wanted to keep my distance because if I started crying I’d never stop.
He climbed into the backseat before I could decide. “Nice timing.” He buckled in. “It’s freezing out there.”
“Why didn’t you ferrier yourself home?” Nell pulled back on the road.
“There may be a problem with that,” he said.
“Jet lag from being on the other side?” she asked. “Or lost in thought over what you found out?”
“I didn’t have a lot of luck with finding anything,” he said. “I tried to access Maggie’s files, to see what the connection between her, her mom, and the soul-eater is. I also wanted to see if I could find out more information about the serengti.”
“Did you find anything?” I asked.
“No, and I don’t like this. Bad things are going to happen if we don’t stay on top of it.”
Bad things had already happened. I told him what happened with Dad. Then he was unbuckling my seatbelt, pulling me over the console, into the backseat, and into his embrace. His tears mixed with mine.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “If I’d stayed—”
“I told you to go,” I said. “This is my fault. His death—”
“None of you ninnies is to blame, so stop with the self-pity crying,” said Nell. “This is the fault of a bunch of evil guys. Someone was going to die and I’m super pissed it was Mr. Johnson. Did you get any answers at all, Craig? Anything that can help us figure out who’s behind this?”
“Yes and no.” He leaned forward. “I got some answers, but the higher-ups caught me sneaking around. They weren’t happy.” He settled back in his seat. “They’ve suspended me for the next thirty days.”
“That’s good,” Nell said. “That means you can help us—”
“And they turned me mortal.”
The car went silent.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means I’m not of much help to give you answers. I can’t remember what I found out because the mortal brain can’t contain all my lives or knowledge. It’s out of my reach.”
Of course. Of course the answer would be there, but the higher-ups would keep it from me. They wouldn’t stop a soul-eater, they wouldn’t warn me about my dad or tell me about my mom, but they would throw up obstacles. When Serge had died, one of the supernaturals, Hera, had come to us. Twice. She’d explained what was going on with me and Serge. My dad was dead, and she was nowhere to be found.
Craig reached forward and put his hand on my shoulder. There was love in the touch, a connection for a lost friend, and it took everything in me to keep it together.
“Call Serge,” said Nell. “We can’t waste time driving around.”
I did what she asked, and Serge appeared in the backseat beside Craig.
“The entire town is out,” he said as he buckled into the seat. “I went to the Tin Shack and listened. Everyone’s talking about Hank, but no one knows anything.” He did a double-take with Craig. “Whoa, dude. What happened to you?”
“Got caught going into Maggie’s files. Suspended for thirty days—”
“Cool,” said Serge. “You can help—”
“And turned mortal for that time.”
Serge swore. “That explains why you look different.”
“Let’s go to the crime scene,” I said. “Maybe there’s some psychic clue left. Does anyone know the location?”
“I do,” said Nell.
Of course. That girl knew almost everything.
Nell flipped on her signal and headed to the location. Police tape and barricades blocked the entry to the scene. Nell cut the engine and we got out of the car.
“This is an active crime scene.” The deputy came toward us. “You’ll have to—oh, Maggie. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was you.”
I tried to remember his name, but my brain was wet cotton.
“Jack Andrews,” he said. “We met a couple of times when you were at the station.”
“Right. I’m sorry. Of course, I know you.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. “I’m really sorry about what happened. Frank called in some help from the other towns. We’ll find this guy. No one hurts one of our own.”
He spoke, and his words of comfort, the desperate need I had for kindness, were like a physical cut to my skin. “Thanks.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his gaze took in Craig and Nell.
“I wanted to see—”
“No, you don’t,” he said. “The crime scene guys are still here and—” Pain flickered in his eyes. “—Nothing’s been cleaned up.”
In other words, my dad’s blood was still on the road.
“I’m going up there,” said Serge. “There has to be something.”
Find us when you’re done.
He nodded and went through the barrier.
“Can you tell us anything?” asked Craig. “I know there are rules about what you can and can’t say, but—”
Andrews took a quick breath. “I liked your dad, Maggie. Hank was a good man.”
The tears rose and burned my eyes. I blinked them back.
“From the tire tracks, footprints, and stuff left on the road—” He stepped close and dropped his voice. “—I think someone was pretending to have car trouble.”
“It was a fake flat tire,” said Nell. She caught my gaze. “What? I hear things.”
“Did you hear who did it?”
“If I had, the cops would be shovelling his bloody body parts off the road,” she said.
“Nell’s sources are right,” said Andrews. “We think Hank pulled over to help, and that’s when it happened. I was one of the first guys on the scene. Your dad put up a fight, but no one can stop a bullet.”
The sudden image of my dad’s final moments crushed me. Craig took my hand.
“We’re running down the tire tracks. The footprints are too messed up to be of any use.” He looked over his shoulder. “I should check in with the rest of them. I wish I could let you up, but rules are rules.”
Yeah, and not once had any of those rules worked for me. The principal’s rules had allowed for bullying. The other side’s rules had taken Craig’s power, knowledge, and left a soul-eater on the loose.
“You should go,” said Andrews. “The longer you’re here, the more trouble I’ll get into.”
“We’ll go.” Craig pulled me back. “Thanks for talking to us.”
He nodded. “Maggie, I don’t know…I don’t know what your family’s plans are, but if you need help with anything, you’ll let me know. Okay?”
“I will.” I forced a smile that hurt my face and put out my hand. “Thank you, Deputy Andrews.”
He took it, but rather than shaking my hand, he pulled me into a tight hug. There was support in his embrace, a sense of connection and empathy, and it hurt so bad I could barely breathe. “We’ll find who did this,” he said. “I promise.”
I thanked him and pushed away. Turning, I opened my mind to possibilities and tried to ta
p into any supernatural energies around us. Crying could wait. Falling apart could wait. Right now, I needed all the clues I could get about the soul-seeker.
I opened my eyes. Oh, crap. Not again. The serengti had pulled me into its world. I blinked, then blinked again. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and I realized I was on a highway. Somewhere rural because all I saw were darkened fields, highlighted by a bright, full moon. Yeah, it had to be countryside—there were too many stars for me to be anywhere near a city.
In the distance, I heard the rumble of an engine. I looked behind me. A car but its lights were off.
I moved to the side.
The car slowed. It was a long, dark, older model sedan. The window went down and I heard a male voice say, “Hi, honey.”
“Hi, Mr. Bradley.”
“Did you have fun at the 4-H meeting?”
“Yes,” said my tween voice, while the real me wondered what a 4-H was.
“You need a ride?”
The little girl said, “Thanks, Mr. Bradley.”
She reached out for the handle, and the world froze. Light, Serena’s light, glowed to the left.
“It’s time to go, Madison,” said Serena. “Your grandmother is waiting.” She held out her hand.
Madison took it.
“Go to the light.” A gentle tug, and Madison’s spirit broke free.
I was trapped in her body, watching as Madison moved to the border between life and death, and stepped through.
Serena didn’t leave. And she didn’t let go of Madison’s—my—hand. Instead, she began to shimmer, to break apart into glittering dust that sunk beneath Madison’s skin. She took possession of the girl’s body.
I felt her anger, her exhaustion. She was tired of taking the souls while evil was allowed to live. Sure, there was an end game for these people, a final reckoning, but it all took so long. In the meantime, there were more bodies, more devastated families.
Serena opened the door, and I got images of what she had planned for this guy, what she was about to do.
Oh, my god.
Chapter Eighteen
“It’s okay,” I heard Deputy Andrews say. “It’s just shock. Get her in the car. I’ll let Nancy know you’re taking her home.”
I blinked and found myself back in Dead Falls.
“Don’t say anything,” Craig whispered in my ear. “Not until we’re back in the car.” His arms guiding me, I stumbled to the car and fell into the front passenger seat.
“Was it Serena, again?” he asked as he climbed in behind me.
“Yeah, but it was different this time. She went after the guy. I saw what she did to him—it was—she was enraged.”
Craig didn’t say anything.
Nell started the car, but didn’t put it in gear. “Craig?”
“I’m such an idiot,” he said. “If I hadn’t tried to mess with the system, I would be able to cross to the other side, and get some answers—the right way.”
“You were trying to help,” I said.
“No, I was trying to find a shortcut because I was scared for you and Serge. Now, I’m in the dark and stumbling around.” He took a long, slow breath. “I can tell you the obvious. It’s bad. Serengti aren’t supposed to interact with anyone other than their charge. If she’s stepping into their skin to exact revenge—”
“She’s breaking the rules. So is the soul-eater,” I said. “I’m no longer surprised they’re both here, now. On some level, they must be calling to each other, connecting because they’ve pulled away from the system.”
“Do you think they’re working together?” Nell turned the car around and headed back to town.
“No,” said Craig. “Serengti are isolationists.”
“This system is broken and stupid,” I said. “There’s a soul-eater on the loose, a serengti that’s violating its protocol, meanwhile, someone’s murdered my dad and no one’s doing anything.”
“The other side is complicated,” Craig said. “Things may not make sense right now, but—”
“I don’t want to hear it!” I lowered my voice. “I don’t want to hear it. I’ve been hearing that crap all my life. This is never going to make sense.”
Craig leaned forward and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Let’s get you home,” said Nell.
“I don’t want to go home. I can’t.” That was true. But at the same time, untrue. I didn’t want to step into a house that didn’t have my dad. Didn’t want to see the chair he’d never sit in again, or the shoes he’d never wear. But I needed home. Needed to grab all his stupid flannel shirts and put them in airtight containers before time erased the smell of him from them.
“Take her home,” I heard Craig quietly say.
No one left after they walked me through the door. We moved in unison, to my bedroom, where Nancy found us. The five of us stayed together, lights on, the animals tucked between us, waiting for the light that would never come.
Chapter Nineteen
I woke the next morning and, for a split second, I forgot Dad was gone. Then it hit, and an icy cold took over the warm confusion.
Serge was on the computer, Ebony on his lap. “Craig is downstairs making breakfast. Nancy went to the station, and Nell’s walking Buddha.” He didn’t bother asking how I was doing, and I appreciated that.
“I found out some stuff.” He turned away from the device. “The cops already questioned Principal Larry, Mrs. Sinclair, and Mrs. Pierson. Especially Mrs. Pierson. She’d left forty messages at Hank’s work. Some of them about Rori’s funeral and headstone, some of them rambling incoherence. A few of them were angry. I don’t think there’s much to it, neither did your dad.”
“If he’d told me, I could’ve—”
“You couldn’t have done anything,” he said. “Your dad was military. If anyone could take care of himself, it was him.”
“Until it wasn’t.”
“We should search his room,” said Serge. “There has to be something of your mom’s in there. He couldn’t have destroyed everything connected to her.” He stood and stretched. “I asked Nancy, but Hank never gave her your mom’s name, either.”
“Obviously, the army was great for training him to keep his mouth shut.”
“Go have a shower. We’ll have breakfast, then we’ll tear apart your dad’s space.” He smiled but he looked as sick as I felt.
“Can you hang out for a bit?” I asked. “I’m scared I’m going to space out in the shower and—”
His grin was a pale imitation of itself. “Hubba hubba.”
“You’re not coming in the bathroom with me. Just wait outside. If you hear any sudden thumps, get help.” I headed into the shower, intending to be quick. But there was something about the drone of the water, the heat and steam, that left me incapable of leaving the tub. It was as though if I stepped out, Dad’s death would be permanent.
I tried to remind myself of what Nell said, that I was lucky because once I found the soul-eater, Dad would be freed. And we’d be a family, again. But the soul-eater went after a certain kind of spirit. Common sense said Dad had been taken because the thing was out of control.
A small part of me wondered about the secrets Dad hid. His military background. The calls from Mrs. Pierson, Mrs. Sinclair, and the other townspeople. What else had been going on that I didn’t know about?
And even when Dad was freed, I didn’t trust Hera and the powers on the other side to leave my dad on this plane of existence. But my biggest fear was me. My emotions were all over the place, leaving me vulnerable to the serengti and terrified that I wouldn’t find Dad’s killer.
The knock boomed on the bathroom door and jerked me out of my reverie.
“Mags,” Nell called. “Do I need to come in?” There was a brief silence, then, “Serge is hoping you don’t answer and I have to go in
there and effect a soapy rescue. I’m not sure if I want to support or shut down his fevered dreams.”
“I’m okay. I’ll be out soon.” After I got dressed, Serge caught me up on what he’d found out when he’d crossed the police barricades and gone to Dad’s crime scene. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep hope alive.
“Homemade donuts,” Craig said as we came into the kitchen. He stood over a pan of frying dough. Golden rings of pastry lined a silver tray that sat next to him.
“Homemade donuts.” Serge’s eyes went wide. “Craig, turn me solid—” His skin blanched. “Sorry, I forgot.”
“Me too,” he said and lifted his hand. “Managed to give myself a serious burn from the oil.”
“How have you not inhaled everything on the tray?” I asked Nell as I sat down.
“The sauce isn’t ready,” she said.
“Sauce?” asked Serge.
“Simmer the blueberries first, then add honey. When it’s shiny and jam-like, we pour it over the donuts, then drizzle Greek yogurt on top.”
“No kidding.” Serge peered into the pot.
Not that I wasn’t loving the domestic calm, but grief rippled under my skin. Maybe anger. Whatever it was, I had to clamp down the urge to scream at everyone. I kept my mouth shut and let their conversation wash over me.
Craig plated the food and brought it over. “Eat.”
“I’m not—”
“I know,” he said. “But you have to. Especially you.”
I took one, but it tasted like paper and sawdust. I put down my donut.
Craig caught the gesture and smiled. “Well, it was worth a try.” He dusted the crumbs off his hands. “Nancy said she told the school you’ll be out of commission for a while.”
I nodded.
“My dad did the same thing for me,” said Nell. “I’m yours till we solve this.”
“Nancy also told them you’d stop by to pick up your homework for the week,” said Craig.
“What do I care about homework?”
“You don’t,” he said. “But she thought it was a good cover in case you wanted to check out the principal for any supernatural clues.”