The Reckoning

Eight

I TOOK THE PILL and fell right to sleep. When I woke up, I did feel refreshed, but the room was dark. I’d left the window shade open last night, like I always did. Tori must have pulled it down. I yawned, rolled over to check the clock…

3:46 A.M.

I groaned, tried to sleep, and won again, only to wake to the sound of crying.

I sat up and looked around. The clock said 5:28.

At a snuffle to my right, I glanced over at Tori, curled up in her bed. Crying in her sleep? She mumbled, then resumed snoring, but still I heard the soft whimper of stifled crying. I peered at her. She was sound asleep.

I heard another wet snuffle, ending in a gasp, definitely coming from Tori’s bed. I went over. Her cheeks still looked dry. I even touched one to be sure.

A long, low whimper made the hair on my neck stand up. It came from under the bed.

I backed up.

Um, what do you think is down there? The bogeyman?

Yes, a monster under the bed was a terrible cliché…but that didn’t mean I was looking.

I thought you were going to stand up to ghosts from now on?

Maybe tomorrow…preferably during daylight hours.

My inner voice gave a deep, put-upon sigh.

You know who it is. Same jerk; second verse. He’s trying to trick you with the crying. You can’t go back to bed now or he might smother you with a pillow.

Gee, thanks. That’ll help me sleep.

Open the shade. The worst thing that’ll happen is you’ll wake up Tori. Serves her right for closing it.

True. As I walked over, I noticed a dark oval next to Tori’s bed. Figures. One throw rug in the room and she pulls it over to her side.

I had the shade halfway up when I caught a flicker of movement. Something was dripping off the side of Tori’s bed, but there was no soft leaky-faucet plop-the carpet must be soaking it up.

I tugged the shade again, moonlight filling the room, illuminating-

The shade slid from my fingers, flying up with a flap, flap, flap. I staggered into the nightstand. The clock crashed to the floor.

The dark oval beside Tori’s bed wasn’t a rug; it was a pool of blood. My gaze rose to the blood-soaked sheets, then up to…

The body on the bed was covered in blood, the head bashed in, the face a bloody-

I tore my gaze away, stomach heaving, Tori’s name coming out in a whimper. Then I saw the rest of the body: blood streaked but whole. It wore only pajama bottoms, bare chest leaving no doubt that it was male. A kid, maybe thirteen, fourteen, with dark blond hair streaked with blood and dotted with-

My gorge rose. I blinked hard, and the boy vanished. In his place lay Tori, sound asleep, still snoring. My gaze flew to the floor. Bare. No blood. No rug.

As I stared at that empty spot on the floor, I remembered the dripping blood. It hadn’t made any sound. A ghostly memory, like the girl at the truck stop and the man in the factory. Horrible deaths endlessly replaying like silent films.

So it can’t hurt you, right?

No, it couldn’t hurt me. It could scare me. It could upset me. It could be seared into my brain forever. But it couldn’t physically hurt me.

The moment I got back in bed, the sobbing started again. Then something that sounded like a laugh. I sat up, but the room went silent. I looked around. Another noise, this time somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

It might have been just the death scene replaying, but I didn’t usually get a soundtrack with that. I wouldn’t put it past that half-demon kid to be the director of this little scenario. If I wasn’t spooked by his poltergeist stunts, maybe a gruesome death scene would work. I started to lie down again, then stopped. Derek had given me crap earlier for toughing something out on my own. I’d already let this ghost play me for a fool. I wasn’t doing it again. I got out of bed and headed for the guys’ room.

I stopped at their not-quite-closed door. I could hear Simon’s snoring. Derek, as always, was silent. I made some noise in the hall, coughing and stamping my feet as I walked. I felt like a kid throwing pebbles at a friend’s window, seeing if he’d come out and play. No answer.

I tentatively pushed the door open a few inches and stood there, waiting. Barging into the guys’ room while they slept…well, not something I cared to do, not when I knew Derek slept in his shorts.

I coughed and shuffled a little more. When Derek still didn’t wake, I peeked inside. Simon lay on the bed closest to the door, sheets tangled around him. Derek’s bed was empty.

I checked the bathroom, but the door was open, the inside dark. I thought about the roof, but after the other night, I was saving that for last. Downstairs, then. First stop? The kitchen, naturally. I found an empty milk glass and a crumb-spotted plate neatly placed in the sink.

As I walked through the rooms on the first floor, I kept glancing down the hall at the rear door. He had said he’d call me if he went out to Change, hadn’t he? Did he go alone? A stab of hurt zinged through me.

So what if he had? That was his right. He didn’t need me to help. Except he’d seemed to appreciate having me there, and I’d liked that, being able to do something for him.

I went to the back door. Sure enough, it was unlocked. I stifled the fresh stab of disappointment and opened it. The house backed onto a tiny rear yard surrounded by forest. The sun was rising over the trees. I stepped out and peered around.

“Derek?” I called.

No answer.

I took a few more steps, then called a little louder, “Derek? Are you out here?”

A branch snapped in the woods. I pictured Derek, in the middle of a Change, unable to respond, and hurried toward the forest’s edge. The noise stopped and I paused at the end of the path leading in, peering into the dark woods, listening. Another snap. Something like a groan.

“Derek? It’s me.”

I stepped in. It took only a few paces for the morning light to fade and darkness to envelop me.

“Derek?”

I jumped as he rounded a corner down the path. I didn’t need full daylight to see the expression on his face. I didn’t even need to see his face at all to know I was in trouble, just the set of his shoulders and the long strides as he bore down on me.

“I-” I began.

“What the hell are you doing, Chloe? I said we’d come out here later and try to contact that ghost. Key word? We. If you’re here-”

I lifted my hands. “Okay, you caught me. I was sneaking out on my own, hoping no one would notice. That’s why I’ve been calling your name.”

That gave him pause.

I went on. “I had another early encounter in my room and thought, after yesterday, I’d better get backup. Tori and Simon are sleeping, but you’re up, so I was looking for you.”

“Oh.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth and muttered what could have been an apology.

“Are you Changing?” I asked.

“Hmm? Nah. I would have come to get you if I was.”

“Good. These days, the buddy system is a smart idea for both of us.”

I walked back into the yard. Derek followed. The path was narrow, but he walked beside me, so close his hand brushed my elbow a few times before he mumbled something and pulled back, letting me go ahead.

“So what were you doing?” I asked. “Early morning hike?”

“Looking around. Just…restless.”

I glanced back at him, seeing the tightness in his face, the way his gaze darted about. More anxiety than restlessness. I stepped from the forest into the yard and turned to face him.

“Something bothering you?”

“Nah.” A pause, then, “Yeah. I couldn’t sleep so I went up on the roof and thought I saw something down here. A light in the woods. I couldn’t find anything, though.”

His gaze returned to the forest, fingers tapping his thigh, like he was eager to get back in there.

“You want to keep looking?” I asked.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” I started for the door.

“No.” He said it quickly, and reached for my arm, but stopped before he touched me. “I mean, if you’re tired, sure. But you don’t have to.”

“Okay.”

He nodded. Then we stood there. After a moment, he rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders.

“So, uh, you said something about a ghost?”

“Right.” I told him what happened.

“You okay?” he said when I finished.

“Spooked, but sure, I’m fine.” He kept looking at me, like he didn’t believe that, and I hurried on. “So did you find anything last night when you searched the house?”

He shook his head. “I tried getting into the basement, but it was locked. There should be a key somewhere.”

“Old-fashioned lock, needing an old-fashioned key?”

“Yeah, how…?”

“You and Simon need to communicate better. He’s already found it. Well, a key anyway. We should see if it works before everyone else gets up.”

We were almost at the back door when it opened. Andrew glanced out, frowning. He didn’t say anything, but the look he gave us was a lot like the one we’d gotten from the staff at Lyle House when they found Derek and me climbing out of the crawl space together. Andrew’s was more uncertain, like he hoped he was wrong. Considering he’d seen me holding hands with Simon the other night, I didn’t blame him for that.

The last time Derek and I had been caught together, I’d stammered excuses. He’d said nothing, and that had pissed me off. But he’d been right-my excuses only made it seem like we’d done something that needed excusing. Andrew hadn’t caught us making out or holding hands or even coming out of the forest. We were in the yard together, in daylight, walking and talking. Nothing wrong with that. So why did he keep looking at us like he expected an explanation?

“Getting warmer out,” I said. “Might even see the sun today.”

A very mature, casual thing to say. Derek even rumbled, “Hope so.” Andrew’s expression didn’t change.

“Are the others up?” I asked. “They were dead to the world when we left.”

“Not yet. I was about to make breakfast when I noticed the back door open.”

“I figured we shouldn’t close it,” I said. “You probably want to know where we are, right?”

He nodded and waved us through, waiting until we were inside, then turning to look out at the woods, frowning, before closing and bolting the door.

Derek went upstairs for a shower. I was going to check on Tori, but Andrew wanted my help in the kitchen, asking me to set the table while he fried bacon.

“You’re a writer, so I presume you like to read,” he said. “Who’re your favorite authors?”

I rattled off a few names.

He laughed. “Simon was right. No society-girl princess books for you. I have something you might like, lots of action and adventure. It’s still in manuscript form, but if you want a sneak peek, I’ll let you borrow my laptop. I’d love to get your opinion”-he grinned over his shoulder at me-“if you don’t mind playing test audience.”

“No, that’d be cool. What’s it about?”

He certainly made it sound good, and we talked books a bit. Then he asked me how I liked my eggs and when he was cracking ours, he said, “How much do you know about werewolves, Chloe?”

“Just what I’ve learned from Derek.”

“Well, I’m hardly an expert myself. But Tomas told me years ago that there is one thing you always need to remember when dealing with a werewolf. They may look like you and me, but they aren’t. They’re only half human.”

I bristled. I’d heard enough of that crap at the laboratory.

“And half monster?” I said, my voice cooler.

“No, half wolf.”

I relaxed. “Derek’s dad raised him to understand that.”

“I’m sure Kit did, but…To Kit, Derek is his son, as much as Simon. There are things parents gloss over for their children. Being half wolf doesn’t just make Derek a little different. Half of him is an animal ruled by instinct. There are some instincts…” He cleared his throat. “Derek seems very attached to you, Chloe.”

“Attached?” I couldn’t help laughing at that. “Sure, he feels some responsibility for me. It’s like you said about being part wolf. I’m temporarily in his pack, so he has to watch out for me, whether he wants to or not. He feels obligated-instinct.”

For a moment, Andrew said nothing, just flipped the eggs.

“Do you want me to start the toast?” I asked. “I can-”

“When the Edison Group first planned the Genesis project, Dr. Davidoff wanted to include werewolves and vampires.”

“V-vampires?” There were vampires? I was still getting used to the idea of werewolves.

“The others outvoted him on that point, but he got his way with werewolves. With all of you we were messing with things we knew nothing about, but more so with werewolves.”

He handed me the bread and pointed at the toaster. “Werewolves and vampires are different from the other supernatural races. They are much, much rarer and we consider them-as they consider themselves-a breed apart. You won’t find a single werewolf or vampire in our group or the Edison Group. The Cabals won’t hire them. Our special hospitals won’t treat them. I know that sounds like segregation, but it goes both ways. Our doctors don’t know enough about werewolves to treat them. And they aren’t interested in coming to our doctors or working alongside us. We are as alien to them as they are to us. That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with them. They’re just better off-and happier-with their own kind.”

I shook my head. “Derek’s happy where he is.”

“Derek’s a good kid, Chloe. He always has been. Responsible, mature…Kit used to joke that, some days, he’d rather have a dozen of Derek than one of Simon. But the wolf is coming out now, and he’s struggling with it. I always told Kit…” He exhaled and shook his head. “The point I’m making is that I know Derek seems like a normal kid.”

Normal? I could have laughed at that. I don’t think anyone ever mistook Derek for a normal kid.

“But you need to remember that Derek is different. You need to be careful.”

I was sick of hearing how dangerous Derek was. Different, yes, but no more than a dozen guys I knew from school, guys who stood out, didn’t act like everyone else, followed their own rules. He could be dangerous, with his superhuman strength. But how was he any worse than Tori, with her uncontrollable spells? Tori had a track record of trying to hurt me, but no one except the guys had ever warned me away from her.

Unlike Tori, Derek was struggling to control his powers. But no one even recognized that. They didn’t see Derek. All they saw was the werewolf.

Nine

GWEN ARRIVED FOR TRAINING after breakfast, and Margaret was supposed to show up at any moment. Simon and I were in the hall when Gwen popped in, cell phone in hand.

“Is Tori with you guys?” she asked.

“I think she’s still in bed,” I said. “She didn’t want breakfast. I’ll go get-”

“That’s okay. I just got a call from work. Someone called in sick and they need me to mind the gallery. Tell Tori I’ll be back around four.” She started to leave, then stopped and turned to Simon. “Yesterday, when Andrew said I was a witch, you looked surprised. You couldn’t tell?”

“Uh, no.”

“Cool. Guess that part of the modification worked.”

“Huh?”

She smiled and waved us into the parlor, then she plunked into an oversized armchair, kicked off her shoes, and tucked her stockinged feet under her, obviously in no hurry to get to work.

“I can tell you’re a sorcerer just by looking at you. It’s a hereditary trait. Sorcerers can recognize witches and vice versa. Andrew said they wanted to get rid of that when they tweaked your genes.”

“Why?”

“Political correctness run amok. They say witches and sorcerers developed the trait as a defense mechanism.” She grinned. “Know thy enemy.”

“Enemy?” I said.

She looked at Simon. “What have you heard about witches?”

“Um, not much.”

“Oh, don’t be polite. You’ve heard we’re inferior spell-casters, right? We hear the same about sorcerers. It’s a silly rivalry, rooted back in the Inquisition. Both races are good spell-casters, with their own specialties. Anyway, Andrew says the Edison Group got the idea that if they could do away with that internal radar, we’d all just get along.”

She rolled her blue eyes. “Personally, I think they made a big mistake. That recognition serves a perfectly good evolutionary purpose-to prevent accidentally interbreeding.”

“Between witches and sorcerers?” I said.

“Right. It’s a volatile mix and-” She stopped short, cheeks coloring. “Enough of my blathering. Work calls, however much I might like to avoid the summons.” She started to stand, then stopped. “You guys like pizza?”

“Sure.”

She asked us what we wanted. “I’ll bring dessert, too.” She looked at Simon. “Can you eat dessert?”

“I can have a little of whatever you get.”

“Good.” She lowered her voice. “Anything I can get you guys, just let me know. This isn’t exactly a teen-friendly house, and you must be going nuts, worrying about your dad, Simon, and your aunt, Chloe. I’m really hoping-” Another glance, another notch lower on the voice volume. “They’ll come around. Andrew will push them in the right direction and I’ll do what I can to help.”

We thanked her. She asked us what magazines we read, so she could grab some. Then Andrew called for Simon-it was time for his lesson. He told Gwen he’d love some comics, whatever she could find, and he took off. I asked for a copy of Entertainment Weekly, which I figured would be easy to find.

Then, before she left, I asked, “What you said about mixing witch and sorcerer blood, is it dangerous?”

“Do you mean…?”

“Someone I know might have both.”

She smiled. “Something tells me we’re both talking about the same person, but neither wants to be the one to say it in case the other doesn’t know. Is this someone named after a dead queen?”

I nodded, and Gwen breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Andrew wasn’t sure if you guys knew, and I didn’t want to be the one caught gossiping.”

I tried to tell her that Tori didn’t know, but she kept going.

“Yes, mixed blood presents some challenges. It adds an extra boost, and you guys, from what I’ve heard, don’t really need that. But the group says neither Diane nor Kit was a particularly powerful spell-caster, so-”

“K-Kit? S-Simon’s dad?”

We stared at each other. Gwen’s lips formed a soundless curse and she winced.

“Guess I really am spreading gossip. Typical.” She gave a shaky laugh as she busied herself checking her cell phone. “It probably isn’t true. Even the part about her dad being a sorcerer might not be true. Not like I’d know-I never worked for the Edison Group and I don’t know either Kit or Diane. Anyway, sorcerer blood or not, I’m sure Tori will be just fine. I’ll tell her-”

“No! I mean, she doesn’t know the rumors. Any of them. Her dad being a sorcerer was just something I overheard at the lab.”

“Well, then, I won’t tell her. You shouldn’t either.”

Was Kit Bae Tori’s father? He couldn’t be. Kit Bae was Korean, and you could easily see it in Simon. Not so in Tori.

Sure, genetics did some wonky things-like Simon’s dark blond hair. But if Diane Enright intentionally got herself pregnant with a sorcerer’s child-as the demi-demon claimed-picking Kit Bae would be like choosing a redheaded father when neither you nor your husband had red hair. There was a good chance Tori’s dad would know the baby wasn’t his.

So, no, Tori and Simon didn’t share a father. But if everyone else believed they did, Tori and Simon might hear the rumor, and that was a complication no one needed.