“Where?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. Somewhere between my house and yours.”
“Did he say anything?”
Nash shook his head slowly. “He just looked at me for a minute, then turned around and walked off.”
“But you’re sure it was him?”
“Yeah.”
I sat in the chair next to Nash and sipped from my mug, trying to decide how best to say what needed to be said. “Tod and I saw him last night, too. Earlier. In the hospital. He was possessed, Nash. Which means you probably saw Avari.”
Nash frowned. “How do you know? Did he sound like Avari?”
“No, the voice sounded like Scott, but the words sounded like Avari.” Normally when a hellion possesses a human, the hellion retains his own voice. But… “He’s spent the past few months in Scott’s head, so it’s entirely possible he learned how to work Scott’s vocal chords, just like he did with Alec. When he was possessing Alec, I couldn’t tell the difference.”
“Hey. Your turn in the shower,” Sabine said, padding into the kitchen in my robe.
“Thanks.” Nash stood and glanced from her to me, then back, like he wasn’t sure what to say with us both listening. Then he made a break for the bathroom while Sabine snagged a piece of bacon from the platter.
“Hi,” Sabine said, still chewing as she lifted the card from a vase of wilting mixed blooms on the counter. “The school sent you flowers. I’m sure that totally makes up for the fact that they hired the psychotic, soul-stealing pedophile who murdered you in your own home.”
I could only blink at her while she chewed.
With the pancakes warming on a pan in the oven and the last batch of bacon in the microwave, I knocked on my father’s bedroom door. “Yeah, Kay, come on in.”
I pushed open the door to find him sitting on the edge of his bed in a pair of flannel pajama pants, squinting at the alarm clock on his bedside table. “Guess what? I made breakfast.”
“You made…?” But before he could finish that thought, our ancient water heater groaned to life and the sound of running water erupted from down the hall. My dad’s eyes widened as he glanced at the closed bathroom door over my shoulder. “Who’s in the shower?”
“Nash. We kind of…had an impromptu sleepover.”
“You and Nash?” My dad was out of bed in an instant, reaching for the robe tossed over his footboard.
“No! Well, yes. But Sabine stayed the night, too.”
“That doesn’t sound much better, Kay… .”
“Hang on, Pa, don’t reach for yer shotgun just yet,” I said, grinning over the protective streak I found funny, when there wasn’t actually anything to shelter me from. “We were just circlin’ the wagons, not having an orgy.”
My dad suddenly looked like he might be sick. “Please don’t
“Wagons?” I teased, and he actually cracked a smile.
“Yes, you’re much too young to be using Wild West analogies.” He tied his robe and ran one hand through hair that showed no sign of thinning, well into his one hundred and thirty-second year. “So what happened? Why are we circling the proverbial wagons?”
I sat on the edge of his bed and patted the spot next to me until he sat again. “Scott’s out of the hospital. Nash saw him last night, and we’re pretty sure that means he actually saw Avari.”
“Nash came here because he saw Avari?”
“Actually, he was on his way here when he saw Avari. But he thought it was Scott, and he doesn’t remember much of it this morning.”
My dad’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“Because he was drunk.”
“Nash came to see you drunk?” My dad exhaled and rubbed his forehead. “Whatever happened to the good old-fashioned drunk dial?”
“I believe that’s now the drunk text, but I think Nash wanted answers in person.”
“Okay, so let me get this straight: the reaper who killed my wife and tried to kill my daughter has come back from the dead and is following orders from the hellion obsessed with owning my daughter’s soul, and now possesses the body of an escaped mental patient who also tried to kill you. Did I get that right?”
“We think Scott was officially released, but other than that, sounds about right.” Why is it that my life can never be summarized in a sentence with fewer than three clauses?
“And you didn’t wake me up because…?”
“Because there’s nothing you could have done.”
My dad scowled. “Kaylee, next time, wake me up.”
“We’re kind of hoping there won’t be a next time.”
Footsteps echoed behind me, and we both turned to see Sabine step out of my room, still wearing my robe. “Hey, Mr. Cavanaugh,” she said on her way to the front of the house.
“You know this can’t be an everyday thing, right, Kaylee?” my dad whispered when she was gone.
“I think it’s safe to say none of us wants that. But on the bright side, I made bacon.”
Breakfast was a whole new kind of awkward, with me sandwiched at the table by my irritated father and my hungover ex-boyfriend, who still wore my dad’s shorts. Sabine seemed oblivious to the unspoken tension—her attention was occupied by a stack of pancakes and a pile of bacon.
After we ate, as I was digging through the hall closet for spare toothbrushes, I heard my father and Nash talking in the kitchen. Alone. The urge to go incorporeal so I could sneak closer and listen was almost too much to resist. In the end, the only thing that stopped me was the fact that I’d spied on Nash once before, with Tod’s help, then promised never to do it again.
Instead, I went really still and listened closely, and in retrospect, I was glad I couldn’t see either of them.
“Do you have any idea how inappropriate your behavior was last night?” my father demanded in a deep, growly voice.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cavanaugh. I wasn’t thinking.”
“No, you weren’t. I know you’ve had a rough time these past few months, and I know that not all of it was your fault. But everyone has it rough sometimes, Nash. What defines us isn’t the strikes life throws at us, but how we bear them. I’ve made my share of mistakes, so it may look like I’m throwing stones from inside a glass house, but my job as a parent is to hurl those stones at
“Yes. Of course.” Nash sounded sick and miserable.
“If I ever catch you drinking or not thinking around Kaylee again, you’re going to wish they’d never let you out of that jail cell. Are we all clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
I couldn’t decide whether I was more embarrassed for me or for Nash, but in the end, I considered us both lucky my dad hadn’t banned him from the house. Or called his mom.
Sabine had a change of clothes in her car—I was starting to wonder how often she was staying at Nash’s and whether or not Harmony knew about the sleepovers—but we had to stop by his house so Nash could change.
In spite of the predawn drama and an awkward start to the day, Tuesday morning was better than the day before. I rode to school with Nash and Sabine to avoid facing the reporters alone, and I was relieved to see that, this time, there were only two, each with a single cameraman. Sabine said they might leave me alone if I gave them a couple of seconds of usable footage to run with the headline Teenage Stab Victim Returns to School! so I let them film me climbing the front steps of the building.
I thought I was prepared for the questions they’d shout at me from the sidewalk—they weren’t actually allowed on school property—but instead of asking how I felt or what it was like to be back, the female reporter from the local-news affiliate threw out a question that stopped me midstep, less than a foot from the front door.
“Kaylee, have you heard the news about Scott Carter? Does this latest development represent a setback for
