by Jo Holloway
“Useful, though,” Wes said. “Like Jenyx said, even if she doesn’t speak, you’d have some idea what the Pyx in Olivia’s mind was feeling.”
“Which brings us right back to me being banned. There’s nothing we can do.” There it was again. There was nothing they could do for Olivia. “Olivia’s brother, on the other hand . . .”
She stoked the fire of resolve and gritted her teeth.
“Rhys.” Jory rejoined the conversation, and the little flutter in her chest started up at the name.
Stick to the plan, Cara. Tell Wes and Jory about Olivia. Done. Now find the missing Pyx.
“We need a plan to check his house,” Wes said, right on the heels of her own thoughts. “We can’t take Jenyx or Tomyx with us, because we know he’s on the lookout now, and we don’t know what he’s capable of. Fortunately, we have Cara now.” He gave her a smile.
“That’s true. You’d be able to sense a Pyx there if we can get you inside, right?” Jory said.
“I guess.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Look, I know I said Wes’s plan was dumb before—”
“Actually, Jory said it was dumb. You said it wasn’t a plan,” Wes reminded her.
“Fine. It still isn’t really a plan. But we’ve tried complicated. The alley trap sort of worked out, but not without me messing things up first. Going to see Olivia by myself was a straight-up disaster. The gala was . . . not good, and I didn’t find anything out. Maybe it’s time for simple. I also can’t do it alone.” Her voice got quieter as she spoke. “I thought I could with the gala, but I can’t.”
“Of course. We’ll be there this time for sure,” Jory said. His grin was back.
“Wes?” Cara nudged him. “What’s the no-nonsense plan?”
He shrugged. “Go to his house.”
“And what, just ring the doorbell, say ‘hey, where are you hiding the Pyx?’ and hope for an answer?” Jory laughed.
“Yeah. Pretty much.” Wes raised one shoulder.
The idea of showing up on the Whaltons’ doorstep was insane. They couldn’t just waltz up there after everything that had happened, could they? Could they ask him straight out what he’d been doing and why? It hadn’t exactly worked out great at the gala. She swallowed. If they did this, they’d better be ready not to take no for an answer this time. They had to demand an explanation. If he had one.
“Think about it. It’s the most straightforward approach. But in the meantime,” Wes continued, “Jenyx said something about “if she can.” Did you mean the Pyx in Olivia might not be able to talk—not just that she won’t?”
The uncomfortable feeling radiating to her from the Pyx in the room flooded her body again. Her stomach tightened.
“What aren’t you telling us?” she asked Jenyx.
Jenner sank down to the floor, crossed his paws, and rested his chin on them. There was no response, but the nauseated feeling in her stomach got so bad, she wrapped an arm across her belly.
“Can we please stop with the secrets?” she asked. “It’s giving me a stomachache.”
When there was still no response, Wes sat up straight. “I’ve been thinking. Ever since you told us Olivia is a pyxis, I’ve been wondering if that’s why her brother is doing all this.”
“What do you mean?” Jory perked up. “Cara and I talked about the guy’s motivations over and over at school. You never seemed interested except to say we should ask him.”
“Because nothing made sense before. But now—”
“Yes,” Jenyx finally spoke. “It makes sense if the boy fears for his sister’s health and has reason to believe a Pyx is involved.”
“But only another Pyx could even tell she’s in there, and me.” Cara set her empty glass down on the coffee table. “The Pyx never spoke, and I never saw the green gleam in Olivia’s eyes or anything. How would he know? Aside from the feeling I have around her, I wouldn’t know. I didn’t know—not until you confirmed it, Jenyx.”
“Wait, you guys think he knows she’s a pyxis, and he’s been trying to learn how to get the Pyx out?” Jory sometimes caught on late since he couldn’t hear everything, but he had a way of putting the pieces together that made it all clearer, even to her.
“I’d been thinking he didn’t know. Or even that he was somehow responsible for putting it there. But this . . . oh, ugh. Jenyx, Tomyx, maybe you should explain why I have this awful sick feeling. Please,” she pleaded.
“You tell them,” Tomyx said. Thomas stood and walked across Jory’s lap to leap to the floor and stalk away.
“I have told Cara before—the reason we do not use human pyxides is because of the risk. The risk to the human is most commonly insanity. The human may recover when the Pyx moves on, or there may be lasting damage done to the mind. They also frequently meet with physical injury since their behavior when fighting the presence of the Pyx in their minds can be extremely erratic. But that is only the most common problem.”
Wes gave Jory a quick recap before Jenyx resumed.
“There is another, less common response. Some humans choose not to fight. Unable to share a consciousness in the way other animals are capable of doing, they simply surrender control. The result is a Pyx fully in charge of a human body if it so chooses, while the human consciousness recedes to non-existence. Only a vile creature would take advantage of another living being in such a manner.” He paused, and Jenner shifted on the floor. From the knot in her stomach, Cara knew Jenyx wasn’t done yet.
“The final possibility is extremely rare. It has only been documented a few times in our history in the age of humans, but is the possibility representing the most risk to the Pyx themselves. Very seldom, the human is so strong as to be able to protect their mind completely. They shut it down. The Pyx becomes trapped inside. The human mind locks it in, in an effort to protect itself. This state would look to your physicians like a catatonic or dissociative stupor.”
Cara’s face was a mask of shock. Her hand covered her mouth in horror. Wes sat with wide eyes, ignoring Jory’s impatient pleas for information.
“Is that what she—what Olivia looks like?” Wes whispered. Cara nodded, and he finally answered Jory to explain. Soon, his face matched theirs.
She’d been wondering if they could waltz up to Olivia’s family’s house and ring the doorbell. She’d wondered if they could simply ask her brother for an explanation. What she hadn’t considered was the possibility he would actually have one.
“So he’s trying to learn how to kill Pyx in some twisted effort to save his sister?” Jory’s summary broke through to her once again.
He was right. It was still twisted. Nothing excused terrifying animals and hunting the innocent Pyx. It wasn’t fair to punish a whole species for the actions of one of them.
“You’re right, Jor. Even if he has a reason, it’s not okay. But is there a way to save her, then, Jenyx?” Cara asked.
Thomas came back around from behind the couch. Tomyx hadn’t gone far. “No. If that’s what this girl has done, then nothing the kid is learning will help him free her. She won’t react to threats. She won’t be scared of dying if she can’t feel anything. And the Pyx is stuck, anyway.” His normal cheerful, joking voice had turned dark and hollow.
Well, none of that was encouraging. They were back to the grim mantra. There was nothing they could do to help Olivia. All that was left was the original plan—rescue the innocent Pyx her brother had taken. And Wes’s no-frills plan was the best they had.
JOSH RUFFLED HER HAIR as they stood on the sidewalk the following morning. “Bye, Cara-gana. Take care of your mom and yourself.” He’d already said goodbye to Sandra before she’d left for work that morning, and only Cara was left to see him off.
Her hair floated across her face in the breeze. “I will.”
“I’ll see you at Christmas for sure. Sooner if I can swing it between trips.” He grinned at her with a twinkle in his eye. “Try not to need rescuing before then, okay?”
She stuck her tongue out at him,
but her stomach squirmed.
“You can always text me too. I know something’s going on, so if you need help with anything”—his face turned serious, and he lowered his voice—“any Pyxsee stuff, maybe . . . just send me a note.”
“Got it. There’s nothing you can help with right now, though.” She shuffled her feet and tucked another loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“If you say so. What about your mom? Anything you can talk to her about?”
His hint wasn’t subtle, and a flash of her feelings after the gala threatened to take over again. She’d managed to refrain from looking at the photo saved to her phone again so far. And she could totally talk to her mom about boy stuff. But there wasn’t anything to tell.
Just a tiny crush on someone who doesn’t deserve it.
She’d wait for it to pass.
“I would, but there’s nothing,” Cara said, painting a smile on her face.
“Okay, well, steer clear of nothing, then.” He winked, and she rolled her eyes. “Love you, kiddo. I’ll see you again soon.”
She hugged him tight before letting him climb into his rental car to leave. She waved until he disappeared around the corner at the end of the street, and then lowered her arm to check the watch on her wrist. She had an hour before she was meeting the boys. They were off to find answers, whatever those were.
CHAPTER 15
Off Script
THE BREEZE HAD PICKED up, and their shirts rippled against their bodies as the three of them stood at the end of the street. They could see the house they were headed for two driveways down. It was no comparison to Whalton Manor in the forest to the west, but it was daunting nonetheless. The Whaltons’ house in Portland lay in the neighborhood just east of Jory’s. Even though the Mathesson home was impressive, the properties had grown in size and splendor as they walked.
A chill ran up Cara’s arms, and she briefly wished Jenner could have come with them, but it was too dangerous for now. She quickly rubbed her arms and then set her shoulders. “Everyone ready?” She looked to either side.
Wes nodded. Jory shrugged, cool as always. She strode forward.
The butterflies in her stomach showed up by the time she reached for the doorbell, but that was probably inevitable. She was used to dealing with those. She could handle it and still stick to the mission. The deep, resonant bell rang far inside, behind the massive wooden door. No one spoke while they waited.
The door opened to reveal his now-familiar tall frame.
The breeze swept across the front step, and the resolve that had burned so brightly in her mind only a moment ago flickered. The last time she’d seen him, that dark-blond hair had been perfectly styled in a tall sweeping arc. Now, it was back to the natural look she’d first seen him with, and his face was softened by his inquiring gaze. The spot in the middle of her chest fluttered back to life, and the butterflies found a way past the wall she’d put up to contain them.
His face transformed as he recognized them. He blinked rapidly, and his mouth dropped open. His gaze hardened.
“You have got to be kidding me.” His eyes swept from Cara (who got an intense flash from his eyes), to Wes (who got an irritated twitch from the side of his mouth), to Jory (who just made him stare, gaping). “What the—”
Wes didn’t hesitate. He took advantage of the moment of stunned disbelief to push past the outstretched arm that held the door open, right into the marble foyer behind it.
Jory cursed under his breath and ducked inside to follow.
“Hey!” The outstretched arm made a tiny movement to stop him, but Rhys was too late. Cara was the only one left on the front step now, lost. He stared back at her, reminding her of the angry glares when they’d danced, and then of the way those glares appeared in the photo. She blinked.
“I guess you’re coming in,” he grumbled. He turned to face the boys already inside. “Someone better start talking. Now.” She slipped in behind him and closed the door to the wind.
Even without the resolve, she somehow stuck to the plan. Sort of. Until it went sideways.
She swallowed. “Hi, um—Rhys—” She hesitated as he swiveled back to look at her with an expression that made her heart race. Jory gave her a weird look too. Her voice wasn’t actually shaking, was it? “We wanted to talk to you. That’s all. Just talk.”
Wes had backed up to the edge of the foyer and craned his neck around to the next room, like he might spot all the Pyx there together in some form or another. Jory glared at Rhys.
“You—all of you? You all know each other?” Rhys scowled as he looked back to the boys. “You broke into my house last year!” He pointed an accusing finger at Jory, whose face clouded over as he remembered it, too, while his hand ran over the back of his head where Rhys had knocked him out. “And this . . . freak . . . practically accosted me in an alley last month.” Rhys jerked his head at Wes.
Wes took a few steps back toward him with a calm expression. How did he do that? Cara felt anything but calm, and Jory was turning deeper and darker shades of red under the string of accusations against him and his friends. His arms had gone rigid beside him, and his hands were clenched.
“Not to mention the crazy girl who’s been following me around and brought a monster to my sister.” Rhys whirled to growl in Cara’s direction.
Jory had turned purple with fury.
Rhys turned away from her back to the boys. “You all have some nerve showing up here after everything you’ve done. I’m not interested in your apologies.”
It was the final straw. Before she could react, Jory crossed the foyer in two large strides, and his fist connected with Rhys’s face with a sickening thwack. His momentum carried him another step as Rhys’s head snapped back and he stumbled backward a few steps.
“Jory!” Cara cried out.
Wes was across the foyer by the time she got the word out, already grabbing his friend’s arm to stop him from getting any ideas. She whipped back around to Rhys, who was still doubled over, holding his face. What just happened? None of this was in the plan.
And you thought you were the one going off script.
“I got this, Cara. You deal with . . .” Wes tipped his head toward Rhys and began pulling Jory to the front door.
Jory was mumbling as he went by. “Never punched anyone before . . .” He was shaking his head and holding one hand in the other.
The wind whistled through the gap when Wes got the door open, and she waited until it banged closed behind them. Now what? A string of swearing behind her made her turn back around. Rhys stood up, blood seeping between his fingers.
“Crap, okay, um, come sit down,” she coaxed. He’d stumbled back through an arched entrance to a large sitting room. There was altogether too much white in the room, but she figured they could afford some stain cleanup if he bled on anything. She placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him across the plush area rug to the couch, where he sat without a word.
She turned in each direction, looking for something to give him for his nosebleed. Nothing presented itself.
“Which way is your kitchen?” she asked.
He gestured back through the foyer and to the left with his other hand. She hurried out of the room and across the expanse of marble. Her footsteps whispered up to the ceiling at least thirty feet above. Quiet descended when her feet reached the hall, and the space lowered to a more reasonable height. She moved down to the next door standing open. It revealed a study—a smaller version of the library room they’d entered at Whalton Manor last November. One hand rubbed her other arm as she peeked inside before she continued down the hall where another archway led to a gleaming kitchen.
She was grateful she hadn’t run into anyone, like staff. Families like this had staff, right? Or was that only in movies? Checking over her shoulder, she grabbed a dishtowel hanging over a rack and moved to the fridge. The button dispensed crushed ice into the towel, and she carefully wrapped the ends around it, making a neat bundle.
He lo
oked up as she rushed back into the front room. He hadn’t moved, and the eyes behind the bloody hand stared blankly ahead. Broken. Sad.
“Here.” She handed him the ice.
“Thanks,” he mumbled through his hand. His eyes returned to staring at a spot in the middle of the floor.
She couldn’t have hoped for a better chance to get him to talk, really. Jory’s punch had stunned him into silence for now. His anger at seeing them, and his demands for them to explain themselves, had evaporated, leaving . . . whatever this was.
“I’m sorry my friend punched you. I’ve honestly never seen him like that.” She sat down timidly on the edge of the couch beside him and studied the back of his head while he studied the floor.
Slowly, he raised his head. One shoulder inched up and back down again. “He owed me one. I did knock him out.”
The breath she’d been holding eased out softly. He was talking.
“You did more than knock him out. He had a concussion. It took him a couple months to recover.”
“Oh.” He looked toward the window. Wes and Jory weren’t visible. “Well, he did break into my house.”
“Um, actually . . . we all broke into your house.”
He finally turned his head to look at her. The dishtowel full of ice hid most of his face. The cloth pushed one eye partly closed. The other was stony.
“Yeah. In our defense, we didn’t know it was your house. Actually, we didn’t know whose house it was at all, but we thought the person using it had broken in, too.”
“How? Why?”
His voice raised a lump in her throat. The wall she’d carefully constructed around her feelings the day after the gala crumbled. He looked as lost as she’d felt on his doorstep a few moments ago.
“How did we find the house?” she asked. He gave a slight nod. “You took a friend of ours. My dog followed the scent from the school to your house. We thought it was empty, and we had to get in to find him. So . . .” She raised a hand, palm up, and shrugged one shoulder.