Kiss Me Deadly: Tales of a Paranormal Romance

And it made me miss Nash even more. He and his family were the only ones I’d ever met who didn’t mind me hanging around—probably because they weren’t human either. Knowing why I was creepy had gone a long way toward helping them get over it.

Unfortunately, revealing my species to the rest of Holser wasn’t an option. But skipping one meal wouldn’t kill me, right? I’d gone longer than that plenty of times. So that night, I put in my earbuds and listened to the iPod David had given me while I waited to fall asleep on an empty stomach.

The next day was Saturday. Visiting day. From ten a.m. on, there were strangers everywhere I turned. Or at least, that’s what it felt like, though once I started counting, I realized only about a dozen of the girls had company.

I wasn’t one of them. Not that I’d expected to be. Jenny was pissed that I’d gotten arrested again, and David wouldn’t come see me without her. Not after I’d pulled a no-show on his watch.

So I decided to scout out a suitable meal for that night from among the girls who didn’t have visitors. I tried the common room first, but the only two girls there were talking to parents, one of whom had brought along a kid brother, evidently glued to a PSP.

The cafeteria was the same, only worse. Several more fractured family units were spread out around different tables, alternately talking, arguing, and sitting in uncomfortable silence. Another point in favor of me not having a real family.

My only other option was the backyard. None of the visitors wanted to leave the air-conditioning for the broiling Texas heat, so all three picnic tables were occupied by Holser residents. The only girl I knew by name was Sharise, who sat alone at the shaded end of a concrete picnic table.

I dropped onto the bench across from her. “Hey.”

Sharise looked up from a game of Solitaire and met my gaze, unflinchingly. “Hey.”

She hadn’t picked up her cards and run—definitely a good sign. My growing hunger would make it harder for me to read her fear, but easier for her to tolerate my presence. “No company today?”

“Or any other day.” She flipped over a red five and stacked it on a black six. “No one left to come see me ’cept my sister, and she can’t drive yet. What about you?”

Had she just asked me a personal question? That was new. “Same. Minus the sister.”

Sharise nodded like she understood. “You in foster care?”

Wow. Two questions in a row. That was practically a conversation! “I was.” I shrugged, trying not to look shocked as I squinted into the blinding sun. “Not sure anymore.”

Jenny probably wouldn’t let David take me back. I was pretty sure she’d gone out of town that night to get away from me anyway, even if she didn’t even really understand her own motivation. She hadn’t been sleeping very well lately—plagued with nightmares of one miscarriage after another, caused by the fear that she’d condemned her husband to a childless life. Well, caused by that, and by me.

What she didn’t know was that David’s worst fear was actually being saddled with an infant. He’d been having trouble sleeping lately too...

“So, how long does this family love-fest last?” I asked, glancing around at the other residents who’d chosen the heat over the Visitor’s Day commotion inside.

“Till five. But everyone with enough privilege points gets to check out for dinner.”

Dinner out? Something told me I wouldn’t be so lucky. Fortunately, so far the food at Holser was much better than I’d expected.

I was oddly reluctant to end the unexpected conversation with Sharise, which would definitely happen once I touched her. But my other hunger had to be satisfied too...

“Hey, you can use this two on that red three.” I leaned across the table and pulled a card from Sharise’s hand, letting my fingers brush hers in the process. I’d gotten very little from her before, but this time I got absolutely nothing. Not a single whiff of fear. Not even the brief spine chill I’d read from her the first time. All I felt from her now was a thick, smoggy kind of peace and acceptance of her past crimes and her conscious decision to move past them.

Sharise stared at me like I’d just snatched a bite of food from her fork. “I got it.” She plucked the card from my hand and played it, then went on with her game without another glance in my direction. Pointedly ignoring me. I might not have freaked her out, but my interference in her Solitaire game was definitely unwelcome.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, and stood and wandered away from her table, as confused by her complete lack of fear as I was disappointed to have lost her company. Sharise seemed cool enough— she was certainly nicer than anyone else I’d met at Holser. But making friends with her, if that was even possible for me, would have been like getting to know my hamburger right before lunch.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

Speaking of human hamburgers, I still hadn’t found a meal...

Across the yard, a girl I didn’t know sat on another concrete bench, while a second girl, perched on the table behind her, braided long strands of her hair. I accidentally-on-purpose bumped their table as I passed and knocked a bag of tiny, neon colored rubber bands to the ground.

“Sorry.” I knelt to pick them up, and when I handed them to the girl on the bench, our hands touched. I looked into her eyes and felt ... nothing. No fear. I saw only patience and a weathered acceptance of Holser House and the part it played in her rehabilitation.

Really? Patience? Acceptance? And no fear?

“What’s your problem?” The girl asked, without any real venom. That’s when I realized I was frowning at her, still holding the bag of rubber bands while she tried to pull them from my grip.

“Sorry,” I said, for the second time in as many minutes. I backed away from the table and into the shade of one of the few trees on the property.

I might not be the poster child for normality, but I’d looked into the eyes of at least a hundred girls my own age in the last couple of years and had seen fears ranging in severity from the stereotypical dread of being dumped in public to the shy, quiet girl’s terror that her brother would lose his temper again and beat her to death in her own room. I’d also felt all kinds of paranoia, insecurity, and rage. But I’d rarely ever felt simple, overwhelming patience and acceptance from a normal teenage girl. Much less two in a row. Two parolees, who should—logically—have more to fear and resent than your average high school kid.

In fact, the only time I’d ever felt anything like what I was getting from Sharise and the other girl was when...

“Sabine?”

I glanced up to see a tech I didn’t recognize holding a clipboard and squinting out at the yard from the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Your brother’s here to see you. He’s in the common room.” Then she stepped back inside and let the door slam shut behind her.

Brother? Then I smiled. Nash...

Sharise raised one brow at me as I pulled open the back door, but I only shrugged. She knew I had no family, but she wouldn’t tell anyone. She was feeling too peaceful to start any trouble. I happened to know that for a fact.

It took all of my dwindling self-control not to race down the hall, but I didn’t want to look too eager. I mean, how happy would a girl really be to see her own brother?

I stopped in the common room doorway, and there he was. He turned when he heard my footsteps, and his hazel eyes lit up, one side of his mouth curled into a half-smile.

“Hey, sis.”

I almost laughed out loud. My relationship to Nash could in no way be described as ‘sisterly.’ I made myself take the next few steps one at a time, and then I merely wrapped my arms around him, instead of running to jump into his arms.

He squeezed me tight and whispered into my ear. “You don’t seem very happy to see your only brother.”

I whispered back, “I might be, if I had one.”

“I’m kind of glad you don’t. He probably wouldn’t like what I’m thinking about his sister right now.”