The Thief

He froze, and turned away swiftly. What little I could see of his expression was blank. He let out a long breath. “No. I didn’t mean you. That wasn’t right. Forget that.” His hand went up to rub the back of his neck, his fingers in his mousy brown hair.

“Is it my mom?” I asked. “Is...is that why you don’t like me?”

I could see his shoulder muscles tense.

“Ms. Miller said...that you all went to school together.” And she drew you all in her journal. “She said you didn’t get along.”

He turned back then, and gave me a long, evaluating look, and again I got the feeling that he was waiting for something, as if there was something under my skin that would reveal itself at any moment.

“Simon was my best friend,” he said. “And she ruined him. In every possible way. So no, I’m not a fan of hers. She was like Gabriel that way. People just fell over themselves trying to make her happy. Simon included. I don’t trust charming people. They never say what they mean.” He looked at me again, then sighed, shaking his head. “But you’re not her. You look so much like her it’s hard not to treat you the same. Maybe if you looked anything like Simon it would be easier,” he smiled wryly. “But he was kind of an ass too.”

“You sound like you need better friends,” I said.

“Friends can be more dangerous than enemies,” he said. “I learned that the hard way. But not having any can be even more dangerous. The truth is that Kyra never did have friends. She had admirers, and Simon was obsessed with her - but she always kept everyone at arm’s length, even him. It was...unhealthy.” His brow creased. “You’re not her. And stupid as their actions have been today, you seem to have better taste in friends than I did, so I’m not going to tell you to abandon them. I will reiterate,” his gaze sharpened, “that you’re messing with some things that none of you are equipped to handle. Camille’s the only one of you with powers - unless you count Heron’s molting - and hers aren’t very strong. Not yet, anyway. Rin Umino is an extremely dangerous person to get on the wrong side of, and she already has a close eye on her. I thought when she arrived that she’d be a young female Gabriel,” he said, shaking his head. “I miscalculated, same as I did with you. My advice - do what you can to remove her from the Uminos’ watchlist, not push her higher up it. I’m going to have a hell of a time explaining how the prophetic scrolls they’ve been trying to translate for months just suddenly revealed themselves. How did you do that? How did you even get into the room?”

“There was a key on the floor,” I found myself lying. “We used it and saw all the paintings. What do you mean, revealed?”

He sighed. “Never mind. Just go home, and stay out of trouble until the festival. The principal is on the warpath making everything perfect.”

I walked to the door and paused, thinking that despite his name-calling and stern looks, he wouldn’t be hiding our involvement unless he actually cared. I looked back at him. “You’re not as mean as you pretend to be, are you?” I said. So why was I lying to him?

His mouth opened and closed, seeming to have no response.

I smiled weakly, saying, “See you Monday,” and closed the door.

Outside the front doors, Camille was waiting with Mac and Destin. They all looked at me expectantly when I stepped out into the cool morning air.

“So,” Mac said, swiping some of the mud from his face. “We have some free time. Who wants to completely ignore what Tailor just said?”

Chapter 14

Mac

“So...feathers, huh?” Jul looks askance at Destin.

He cringes.

“You are hereby sworn to absolute secrecy,” I tell her, pushing aside a low-hanging branch. “Both of you,” I glare at Camille. She returns the stare, unimpressed.

We were trekking through the woods between the school and the Graham property - following the line between them until it dead-ended at a place I was sure would provide some answers: the remains of the old lumbermill.

It had taken less time than I expected to bring them up to date on our run-in with the woman Tailor had called ‘the Ender’ - talk about an overkill title - and the girls had told us about some magic Tailor family sword that Hyde seemed all fired up to get his hands on, and the paintings Jul had popped spells on in the basement. Well, technically Jul had done pretty much all the explaining. Camille just kind of grunted approval here and there.

“Yeah, but why feathers?” Jul seems genuinely curious.

Destin shrugs, blushing. “How should I know? Feral powers aren’t predictable or inherited.”

“It only happens when he’s freaked out, it’s no big deal,” I say, hopping over a fallen log.

“I thought feral and fae powers weren’t supposed to show up until you turned sixteen,” Jul says.

“Where’d you hear that?” I ask.

“I was...there’s...” she stammers, “there’s a library. In my grandmother’s house. She um, doesn’t know I found it.”

“When did we become juvenile delinquents?” Destin asks nervously.

“Since nobody will tell us what’s going on,” I remind him. “Right, so this place we’re checking out - ”

“Monster house?” Camille interrupts dryly.

“I didn’t say it was a monster house, I said I saw the imp run in this direction, and the old lumbermill is out here. Me and Dez were doing some research on it since then, and check this out - the police report from forty years ago says it was burned down by a woman named Meredith, who was never apprehended. Tailor said she was immortal and made of fire, so that could be her.”

“You forgot certifiable,” Destin says.

“There were three people there at the time, doing inventory or something, and one of them died, a guy named Omen Taft. One of the other two was your grandmother, Jul. I mean, it has to be - how many Beatrix Grahams could there be in Havenwood?”

Confusion crosses her face. “What does that mean?”

“No idea. That’s why we’re checking the place out. That, and look for signs of the imp. Wow, I cannot tell you how nice it is to have an actual name for the stupid thing.”

“Who was the other?” Camille asks.

“Huh?”

“The third? At the fire?”

“Oh,” I say. “Some woman named Wilde. Zelda or Xena or something else crazy. I couldn’t find anything else on her, or the guy Taft. Not even a death certificate for him. It’s like that police report is the only proof either of them existed.”

I look up, seeing tumbled-down brick and rotten wood planks rising out of the undergrowth.

“Behold,” I say. “We’re here.”

Camille raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Jul is more tactful.

“It looks...spooky?” she offers.

“It does at night,” I say defensively.

But it’s the middle of the day - so the old abandoned lumbermill almost looks picturesque. The woods have grown back in around it, and vines climb in and out the busted windows.

“It’s condemned.” I say the word as menacingly as I can. “So that’s pretty hardcore. They keep talking about tearing it down, but nobody’s gotten around to it. Plus they’d have to re-clear a road to get in here.”

Jul skirts around an empty bottle. “Nobody uh...lives here, right?”

I shrug. “Sometimes people come out here on Halloween. That’s about it. I mean it’s wedged between three private properties - somebody would notice.”

Camille stalks forward, pushing an overzealous hydrangea aside.