The Thief

But the person on the other side of the door has enough judgment and hellfire to go around.

Meredith leans against the frame, grinning. “‘Allo.”

Reflexively I try to shut the door but she sticks her foot out, heavy boot wedging it open. “You know where the Wolf is,” she says, eyes glinting like flint. “I can smell it on you. It’s not you, but you’re close to it. You owe me, after that nasty spell in the woods.” She’s wearing a brown leather jacket, but the shirt underneath still bears the hole around her midsection where she was impaled. Her skin is pale and unmarked. I swallow nervously. She can’t be here. This is my house. I live here.

“Charming an imp to do your bidding, that was a nifty trick,” she says. “Did you make the spell that’s hiding the Wolf, too? You’re right young to have talents like that. I may not be able to follow the beast, like I’m supposed to - but I can follow you, and burn everything you touch until you take me to it.” She looks over my shoulder, smirking. “Is it him?”

I bristle, instinctively knowing Destin’s come out of the kitchen. “No, it’s not,” I say fervently. “Go bother someone else. I don’t know who your stupid Wolf is.”

“You do,” she states, staring down at me.

“Mac,” Destin warns, under his breath.

“No, I’m serious,” I say, hoping I sound serious. “This is my house, you can’t come in.”

She makes a leering grin. “What, you think I’m a vampire or something, that I can’t cross the threshold without an invitation? Those pulp fiction monsters from the cinema aren’t real. You have no idea what you’re messing with, little boy. I’ve held back thus far because I think you’re funny. Much more of this, though, I’ll stop thinking that. If you want to escape this with your happy little suburban life in tact, you will give me the Wolf. This house is structurally unsound, you know...” she intones, eyeing the eaves and the timbers that uphold the porch.

“You’re crazy,” I say, repeating, “I don’t know your stupid Wolf. You’re imagining things.” She can’t. She cannot set my house on fire. My mom is in the living room. “If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”

She laughs at that, hearty and loud. “Oh do, do. I love policemen. They’re usually smokers.” Her voice drops as she says conspiratorially, in her thick British accent, “Lungs full of tar, my boy, they burn like charcoal briquettes. Roast a man from the inside out. It’s quite the spectacle.”

My hand on the doorknob grips tighter to keep from shaking. What had we done? Is this all real? Freaky crap doesn’t happen at my house. This is where my stuff is. This is the place where I hide my sister’s makeup and play video games and have Thanksgiving with my family and Destin and his dad.

When you go looking for adventure, it isn’t supposed to follow you home and burn your house down.

“Are we going to cooperate, then?” she says, smirking at my expression.

I swallow, looking up at her, hearing Tailor’s warning in the back of my head. What do I do?

“Meredith?” my mother says, coming in from the living room.

Wait, what? The disheveled woman on the doorstep looks as confused as I feel.

“Oh my god, Meredith!” my mother exclaims, running up and throwing her arms around the woman. “I can’t believe you’re showing up here! I never thought I’d see you again! What are you doing out of London?”

“I’m...uh...” Meredith flounders, “ah...visiting you,” she says unconvincingly, but my mother buys it.

“I can’t believe you remembered where I live!”

“Aye, that’s me,” she says. “Remembering things. That’s what I do. Mind like a steel trap.” She taps a finger against her skull.

What the hell was going on?

“Mom!” I protest.

“Oh! Mac, this is an old friend of mine from college. Meredith Ender. Well, I was in college. She wasn’t really in school. It was during the year I was studying abroad in London.”

“Showed you the ropes, did I?” Meredith says, but it sounds to me more like she’s fishing for information than reminiscing.

“A little too well,” my mom confirms, with a little giggle. “I wonder if that pub still has us on the no-fly list.”

“That was a long time ago,” Meredith states with uncertainty.

My mom sighs. “Don’t remind me. I’m starting to feel my age. But look at you, you haven’t aged a day! Well, are you going to come in or not?”

“Mom!” I protest louder. How could she possibly know this person and still want her in our house?

“Mac, she is company. What is your problem?”

What’s your problem? I wanted to shout back, but Mom clearly has no idea. The tattooed woman grins wickedly at me and follows my mother through the foyer, into the living room. “Nice digs,” she comments.

“We do alright,” my mother says modestly. “To tell you the truth, some days I wake up and wonder how I got here.”

“Who do those boys belong to?” Meredith asks, glancing at Destin and I, standing stupidly in the hallway. “They can’t be yours.”

“Oh, I can only claim Mac,” my mother says obliviously, smiling at me. “Destin lives next door. He’s over here often enough he might as well be mine, though.”

“Is that right,” Meredith comments, regarding me curiously. I don’t understand the sudden interest. “Well he does look just like you. The hair.” She makes a vague gesture between me and my mother.

Mom pats her curls self-consciously.

I want to run and get help, but I don’t want to leave my mom in the clutches of a crazy magic arsonist, no matter if they’re old college buddies. And besides, who would I get help from? Who would know what to do with this person?

Realization sparks in the back of my head. Ms. Bea. She’d known immediately what to do at the library. She practically keeps the imp as a pet. Maybe she can help. But that still leaves my mom alone with pyro lady. I look up at Destin. In a near telepathic exchange, I can tell he’s already had the same idea.

“Did you forget that thing at the library?” I ask him.

“Yeah,” he says. Ms. Bea wouldn’t be working right now - she’d be at home. But Meredith will probably assume we’re making up code for bringing her the Wolf. I hope.

“You should go get that,” I say. “I’ll wait here.”

“Are you sure?” Destin asks.

“Well, it’s my house,” I say. I hope it’s vague enough not to alert my mom something’s up.

Destin seems to understand. He nods, saying “I’ll be right back,” and with a glance at my mom obliviously conversing with our blackmailer, he leaves through the front door. He cares about my mom too, I understand that. She had pretty much filled in after his mom had left when he was eight. It was up to us now to keep her safe.

“Mac, was it?” Meredith calls from the living room, already making herself at home. “Why don’t you fetch your mum and I a drink? Surely you carry the good stuff, darling?” she queries my mom.

Mom laughs. “It’s a bit early for that, isn’t it?”

“So you do have the good stuff! Any drinking pal o’ mine would,” Meredith declares. “Bring it forth!”

“Oh, alright,” my mother relents, blushing. “But only because it’s a special occasion.” She gets up and goes to the kitchen.

I cross the living room slowly and sit in the chair furthest from where Meredith is sprawled across the couch, scuffed boots propped up on the coffee table.

“You can’t hold my mom hostage,” I say lowly.

“It seems to be working pretty well,” she leers at me. “Relax, munchkin, once I get my Wolf I’ll be out of your hair. Scout’s honor. Your better half had best be bringing it.”

“He is,” I say.

“Excellent. Then we all get to stay civil and life will go on. I’ll forget I ever saw your miniscule face and leave Havenwood forever. Maybe. Probably. Well, that I can’t promise.”