Manticores? Not excited to go up against one of those.
Sebastian’s comment washed over Dillan. He gripped the hilt of his sword, taking comfort from its solid weight. Forget interesting, Newcastle just got dangerous.
“What did you tell Kyle?”
That I knew what I was doing.
He heard the shrug in Sebastian’s voice. “I still need to talk to you about that. Stupid move, mutt.”
She needed my help.
“Did you get a look at what was after her?”
The hellhound shook his massive head.
“Then you really weren’t helping. No point in worrying about that now.” Returning his sword to its inert form, he faced Sebastian. “We need to find this thing before it moves from dogs to its favorite meal.”
Humans.
He nodded once.
What about the Maestro?
“One life threatening Supernatural at a time.” He stared into the distance. A little over a mile from where he was lay the closest mutilated carcass. Add a couple more miles to that stood the Fallon farmhouse.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Selena
That Little Thing Called Drama
The bright light.
The biting air.
The black dog.
The pointing hooded figure.
The blood.
All the blood from a hole in my chest. The taste of copper and rust on my tongue. It tasted like fear.
Screaming. Lots and lots of screaming.
Who could it be at this time of night? What could have happened? She sounded like she was in pain. So much pain. I couldn’t take it.
The door to my room burst open, almost tearing from its hinges. A woman in a cotton robe rushed in. Her white hair hung down loosely over her delicate shoulders. A towering man in a shirt and sweat pants, holding a baseball bat, filled the doorway after her.
The screams continued. Hoarse now. The voice was running out of steam.
“Selena!” The woman sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed my arms. She shook me. “Selena! Wake up!”
I wanted to say “stop,” but the cries drowned out the word in my head.
“Slap her, Caroline,” the man said.
The crack of a hand against skin cut through the screams, silencing them.
The sting on my cheek spread, waking me in slow degrees. I blinked dry eyes, panting and swallowing. Over and over I panted and swallowed. My hands white-knuckled the comforter that pooled on my lap.
“Water,” I begged hoarsely.
The man disappeared out my door.
Shivering, I focused on the woman. My brain told me I knew her. That I was supposed to know her. But I couldn’t remember her name. Slowly, I let go of my comforter—one aching finger at a time.
“Selena.” Her brow puckered. “Do you recognize me?”
I ransacked my brain for the right answer and came up with a whole lot of nothing.
The man came back with a glass of water, an equally worried expression on his handsome face. “Here, my dear, drink.”
Taking the glass with shaking hands, I brought its rim to my lips. I reminded myself to take slow gulps, listening to what the man and woman were saying.
“…years since she’s been this way,” the man said.
“Not since they died. That look, that empty expression. Those screams. Oh, David.” The woman covered her mouth with a trembling hand.
“Shhh.” He gathered her in his arms. “She’s strong. She’ll come back to us. You’ll see.”
The screams came from me? I made those horrible sounds? Every sip of water confirmed the rawness of my throat. It hurt to swallow. Then the vision came back to me. I stared at the couple holding each other, finally recognizing them.
“Grams?” My voice was so small, not like what I was used to hearing from me.
Tears raced down her face. “Oh, Selena,” she said. She gathered me into her arms and sobbed into my shoulder.
I looked up at the man. “Gramps?”
“Yes, dear?” He looked so fragile for such a big man.
I pushed away the disturbing images of my death. Closer now, more than ever. I felt it. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Gramps scolded.
Grams broke the hug and dried the last of her tears with the sleeve of her robe. Her piercing eyes held mine.
“What did you see?” she demanded.
I scrambled for a lie. “A nightmare.”
“Are you sure?”
Lying to Grams and Gramps shredded my insides, but I had to do it. I didn’t want them to worry more than they already were. Even if I barely had clear memories of them, I pulled out the big guns: “Mom and Dad.”
Grams’s granite expression softened. She wrapped her arms around me again. Gramps joined in, taking the both of us into the wide expanse of his reach. We all rocked in silence for what seemed like hours.
The darkness outside gave way to pale morning light by the time Grams fussed about making breakfast. I watched them step out of my room like they didn’t want to leave. I kept a smile on my face even though I was dying inside. I couldn’t tell them. I couldn’t tell anyone.
…
A few miles out of Newcastle, Mr. Sloan stood in the aisle of the school bus beside the driver and happily explained what the class could expect from our trip to Mount Rushmore. It seemed like I was seeing him for the first time, my American History teacher. I would have never suspected him of being anything other than the guy smiling and enthusiastically answering questions beside the driver. He was Illumenari. Speaking of which, my gaze landed on Constance and a brunette named Tina giggling. Their heads were close together, whispering and sneaking peeks at Dillan, who sat with a brown-haired boy named Tim two rows in front of them. He ignored Mr. Sloan by staring out the window. The boy who, in one afternoon, flipped my life on its head. I had a feeling he’d rather be doing something else than be stuck sitting on a bus full of teenagers. Maybe policing those he called Supernaturals? I was pretty sure he was about my age, maybe a year older, but sometimes, when he got really quiet like he did now, he seemed older. It still wigged me out how calm I was being about all this. Like the life I had before yesterday wasn’t the one that was normal. I sent a silent prayer for strength to whoever would listen.
Our group rode in the first bus while the other half of the eleventh grade rode in bus number two. Penny grumbled about the fact that she couldn’t ride with our class when we all gathered at Newcastle High’s parking lot that morning. Mr. Sloan insisted she stay with her class in the second bus. I smiled at the memory of Penny’s mock devastation. My phone was filled with frown-y faces—all from her.
My brow wrinkled at my seatmate after I deleted yet another message with a frown emoticon. “What did you say?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kyle asked, angling his head to get a better look at me. I shrank away from him, pushing my phone back into my pocket. “Your eyes look all puffy.”
“Just didn’t get a lot of sleep. Was super excited about today.” The lie, once it started coming out of my mouth, sounded like the truth. I twisted around and grabbed his hand, examining his bruised knuckles so he couldn’t stare into my eyes. “What happened here?”
He shrugged. “Slammed into something, I guess.”
“Like what? A wall?”
“Don’t you just love field trips?” Kyle asked. His expression was unrepentant.
Whoa! Sudden topic change. Great. The amount of things we kept from each other seemed to pile up now. How long until we stopped sharing things with each other altogether?
I glanced out the window.
“What happened after you left me on the porch?” The question came out of me when I couldn’t take the silence between us anymore. At least give me an A for effort. I was trying.