Darker Days

make good on my promise to Kendra. The cell rang five times, and I was about to hang up, when she answered. “Hey—”

“Took you long enough,” she snorted. “Before you say anything, though, I need to apologize.” Knowing Kendra, she was tapping her fingers and biting down on her bottom lip—nervous tics.

“Nothing to say. It’s all good.”

“All good?” she squeaked. “We are talking about the same thing here, right? The part where I tried to kill you at Flankman’s yesterday?”

“Kill is a little dramatic, dontcha think? I mean, you were using magic. How much harm could you have done?”

She gasped, but I could tell it was totally fake. Kendra had a definite flair for the dramatic. “Jessie!”

“Seriously, it wasn’t you, Ken. Don’t sweat it.” I readjusted the cell and rolled onto my back. “Was surprised to see you at school, though. Thought for sure Cassidy would keep you home.”

“Not even,” she mumbled. “She couldn’t get me out of the house fast enough.” There was a slight pause, then I heard her take a deep breath. “She’s helping your mom with something, isn’t she?”

Feeling a spike of guilt, I glanced toward the door. “Yeah. We need to find a family. They’re one of yours.”

Kendra’s voice got a little lower. “Do you know the name?”

Kendra and I had a slew of things in common. We were both part of a small, lesser known community. We loved the same music and laughed at all the same jokes. We also both had parents that wanted to keep us safe.

“Wells. Ring a bell?”

She was quiet for a moment before exhaling into the receiver. “Not even a little one.” A pause. “Listen, I’ll hit you back later, okay? Mom’s on my ass to do the dishes. If I take any longer, she’s liable to curse me with a tail.”

Do the dishes. I sat up straight and swung both feet over the edge of the bed. That was code for someone listening.

The coven Kendra and her mom belonged to was full of some seriously badass women. They all kept pretty close tabs on each other, terrified that their secrets would spill into the supernatural world. Sometimes, I worried what they were hiding. I’d seen them go to extreme lengths when they thought someone had been compromised. Anyone that paranoid of people getting into their dirty laundry had to be hiding something bad.

“Yeah, totally cool. We’ll hook up in school tomorrow,” I said, meaning call me back as soon as you’re sure it’s clear.

There was a faint snap, then some rustling paper. “You gonna be okay?”

“Totally. You know me and Mom. The Darker girls have it covered.” I hoped I sounded more convincing to her than I did to myself.

“Stay safe.” And the line went dead.

I rolled upright and kicked at a stray sock on the floor by my feet as I grabbed my iPod. Volume cranked and eyes closed, I flopped backward onto the bed and let the calming sounds of Beethoven’s Ninth wash over me. My life was kind of like his music. Chaotic at times but balanced. Peaceful in its own strange way. I was betting Beethoven would’ve made an awesome monster masher. The guy’s dedication to his craft was boundless. Hell, he used to stick his head into icy water to stay awake. If that wasn’t dedication, then I didn’t know what the heck was.

I stayed like that for a while, letting the calming melody soothe my nerves as I tried to think. I understood where Mom was coming from, but she was going to have to cut the apron strings eventually. I was almost an adult, and I’d seen more than most people did their entire lives. No. I wasn’t going to be benched. She needed me. We’d just talk this out. Like adults.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and opened my eyes. At first it was just a dark blob in my field of vision. Then it took shape. A person’s shape. I stumbled back, yanking the bud from my left ear along with the small silver hoop earring. Lukas was standing over me, looking down with a strange expression on his face. He thrust a white mug at me. “I thought this would make you feel better.”

As soon as my heartbeat stabilized, I took the cup. Chocolate milk.

“It’s not the same as what you made the other night—I couldn’t figure out how to work that damned machine in the kitchen—but it’s surprisingly good.”

I took a sip and nodded. “It’s great. Thanks.”

I expected him to leave, but he stayed where he was. Watching me.

“So why the chocolaty olive branch?”

“Olive branch?”

“Seriously. Your time would be so much better spent watching TV to learn the language,” I muttered, trying to hide my smile. “Why bring me the chocolate milk?”

He shrugged. “You seemed upset.”

“So what? I thought I was irritating.”

He tried to hide a smile, too, but it broke free and crept across his lips. Our eyes met for a moment, and a rush of warmth shot through me. Right before he turned and strode from the room, he said, “You are.”

I watched him leave and downed the chocolate milk in one swig. Very few things in life couldn’t be made better with chocolate. Well, chocolate and sharp weapons. As I set the cup down next to the bed, my cell started going nuts. I caught it just before it vibrated itself off the edge of the nightstand.

Sumthg wrong w/me. Come ASAP.

Garrett.

Chapter Seventeen

This was murky water. On one hand, the text could be a trick. The memory of his chilling laugh and confident stare as he pulled away earlier flashed through my mind. But on the other hand, what if it wasn’t? I had no way of knowing what the effect of direct contact with a Sin was. For all I knew, he was shriveling up from the inside out and in terrible pain.

My first instinct had been to ignore the text. But the longer I sat there thinking about it, the more I wondered what Mom would’ve done in my position. She’d go, that’s what. If there was any chance Garrett—or anyone else —was in real danger, then she’d go. She wouldn’t want me to go, but as far as I was concerned, that was splitting hairs. I didn’t want her to know about Vida yet, and that meant handling this myself. If I asked for help, then I’d have to explain. If I explained, there would be some kind of lecture.

Garrett had lived two blocks away from me since the fourth grade. We’d never been friends—mainly because we didn’t travel the same social circles. Hell, until last month when the agency took his Mom’s case, we’d never even spoken other than the time he’d stolen my cookie in fifth grade. But I’d spent some time with him since then. He wasn’t my idea of optimal stimulating company—the guy was obsessed with football and old cars—but he wasn’t horrible.

Garrett’s house was a cute Victorian with a nicely manicured lawn surrounded by huge flowerbeds. It was approaching fall so everything was starting to die off, and still it somehow managed to look amazing. Bright red and gold leaves gathered around the edges, giving the whole scene an autumn tone. We had tons of trees out behind the office—but they were all pine. The most they dropped were pinecones and huge blobs of sap that stuck to everything.

I made my way up the steps, and with a deep breath, knocked on the front door. “Garrett?”

After a few minutes, when I got no response, worry started creeping in. Images of him writhing in pain, curled up in a corner of the house and unable to speak, flounced through my brain. Imagine my surprise when I turned the doorknob and found it unlocked.

Upon pushing through, I was greeted by a homey room drenched in warm inviting colors and decorated with birds and flowers. A lot of flowers. Disturbed blared from speakers bolted to the walls on either end of the room, causing the small knick-knacks on the mantle to shimmy and rattle.