"Hmm. I certainly have no idea who they are," Inna murmured.
"You don't." Eric kept on staring ahead into the night. "They're Native Americans. Actually, from the little your brother could dig up, Kennedy is Native American and his mother is African."
"Nice way to mix two races."
He scoffed. "That's a sour combination. What I'm after is the necklace. I have to find the widow or the kids as soon as possible."
"You have school," she pointed out.
He rolled his eyes at her. "As if that's a problem. It's just a farce, to put up with this whole 'living normal' thing."
At his words, both of her brows shot up. "Are you actually calling this," she gestured around him, "living normal? I think you have a poor definition of that phrase."
He tried not to let her words get to him, because he'd had enough frustration for one day. She didn't understand what it took him to wake up in the morning after sleeping at night, to take a shower, dress in proper clothes and head off to school. Nope, she didn't understand, even if she was his friend. And she didn't because she could afford living normal more easily, without having to watch her back every second.
"You should leave," he said quietly.
She turned startled eyes at him. "Did I upset you?"
"No," he replied in a clipped tone.
Inna placed a hand on his bare arm. "I'm sorry if I made you upset."
Eric sighed deeply before looking at her. "Why are you apologising?"
She didn't reply.
"Goodnight, Inna," he said, unwrapping her fingers from his biceps.
"Have a lovely night, Eric." She stared at him a few seconds longer before walking down the porch steps.
The instant he stepped inside the house, his mother's grip landed on his arm.
"About time." She studied his face and bare chest thoroughly. "Did she kiss you?"
"You were eavesdropping. You would know if she did," he said with an arched brow.
Chelsea pursed her lips tightly and studied him again. The female wolf's scent was all over him. "Connor told me what happened."
"The little he knows?"
"You unleashing the beast and tearing down Miami."
He shut his eyes for a moment before looking at her again. "Mom, I understand I'm a monster and--"
"No," she cut him off sharply, though the hand she placed on his cheek was gentle. "You're not a monster. The moment you admit it yourself, you agree with those bàstards out there, seeking hybrid blood to spill." She paused briefly. "Who tortured you?"
He gave her a flat look. "You know who."
It took a moment for her brain to process and piece things together. "Son of a penniless pig. I'll wring his neck with a spanner when I get my claws on him."
Eric backed a step away from the furious woman. He'd come to learn of and appreciate Chelsea's fury, which he also clearly avoided.
"For how long?"
"Maybe four hours?" he said hesitantly.
"That's dàmn too long to torture someone with hot silver!" She was already dragging him into the kitchen. When they reached the table, she pushed him onto one of the chairs. He grumbled as she flustered around, still ranting. His mother was clearly not all right tonight, he thought.
"I wish that bàstard was a mere Tulscan or Lykant. A twist of his neck is all," she rambled on. "He's lucky he's Talgan. Dàmn Talgans. Thinking they're all high and mighty."
Eric raised his brows at those words, which she didn't see as she still stood by the cooker with her back to him. She was heating something without a match. The aroma that wafted to his nostrils had his stomach humming in approval.
"Mother," he called calmly, cutting off her tirade.
She whirled on her heels to face him; her eyes switched from furious to concerned.
"You need to rest. Didn't Dad mention that to you?" He frowned. "Or is your hysteria a side effect of the poisoning?"
She cocked her head to a side. "Perhaps."
He shook his head, muttering a curse under his breath.
"I'm perfectly fine, Eric," she said with a frown of her own, before returning to the cooker.
"Keep lying to yourself, Mother." He stared at her back, watching his mother stir his favourite soup in a pot.
Goulash.
*****
Twenty candles in five rows and four columns. In two rows and ten columns. In ten rows and...
Jess yawned for the umpteenth time that morning, while she lay lazily on the ground, arranging candles beside her.
The night had taken its toll on her the instant she'd entered her room. However, her sleep had been cut short an hour later. Muscular backs and spiral tattoos had persistently haunted her dreams.
After trying and failing several times to return to her slumber, she'd slid down to the floor which the housekeeper had thankfully rid of its previous mess. For the next three and a half hours, Jess had tried retrocognition - viewing past events - but it seemed like she had to fail at that one, too. So, she took out her perfumed candles, which her dad said had a calming effect on the troubled mind. Instead, all she could do was arrange them into rows and columns.
She'd also tried lighting them without matchsticks. Failure again. Pyrokinesis was not her thing. The only times she'd done it were--
She shut her eyes tightly to dispel the bad memories. No! No! She wasn't going to think of fire accidents. Those were not what she intended to use as examples of fire manipulation.
Bored and still dizzy, she wrapped her blanket around herself and shuffled to her feet to look out the window. The sky was a deep shade of blue, lighter at the horizon, thanks to the rays of the rising sun.
Jess pushed her window open and climbed out, using the tree branches near it as support. When she landed on the soft lawn, she took a quick survey of her surroundings.
This was the first time she was actually taking a proper look at the backyard. And it was beautiful at dawn. Not that she'd ever admit it out loud to Mike or anyone else in her family.
With nowhere in mind, she wandered about the yard. Some of the flowers in the back garden had died off, in response to the fall season. Others were stubbornly persisting, although she knew they'd be gone before December. The evergreen conifers and ferns still flashed all their exuberant green leaves proudly.
Jess' eyes caught what she might need at the moment - the stone bench in the centre of the foliage.
She sat on it and welcomed the covering of the surrounding hedge. The calmness and light scents from the garden got to her mind really quick.
She closed her eyes and breathed in. Don't think. Don't feel. Let your mind connect with your soul, and let your soul connect with your spirit. She put her dad's lecture to practice as she let her mind, spirit and soul connect to one another.
At first, there was nothing, since she'd cleared her thoughts and emotions. Then, a sudden strange feeling overtook her senses. It was like every single matter was alive - the air, plants, birds, sounds... She could feel almost every atom, including that of non-living things. As she concentrated on her inner self, her inner self connected her with her environment.
Back in the house, Phyllis opened the fridge and grabbed a jug of fresh orange juice for breakfast. She set it on the table before plopping herself on a chair. Cody walked in at that moment, yawning and stretching. She looked him over.
"Your hair's a mess," she commented. "Have you had a shower?"
He shrugged. "Too tired."
"Go take a shower, Cody. It's past seven already." She got up to shoo him out of the dining room.
He scowled. "I'm too tired to take a shower, Phyllis. Can't you understand?"
She blinked twice. "I understand we had a rough night, but you have to go to school today."
His brows went up. "School? You're talking about school when your uncle was murdered last night?" He threw his hands up in frustration. "Girl, shut up. Okay? You're not normal if you think--"
A light bulb blew.
Both of them looked up immediately. "Weird," Phyllis muttered.
"Really weird," Cody said quietly, looking away. "I'll... head upstairs... now, and take a shower."
She gave him a surprised look as he left the dining room. She glanced down at the shards of glass on the ground. Mike had to check on the power box outside for any fault, before anyone got injured.
When she was done clearing away the pieces of glass, Heather walked in. The woman showed up three times a week to clean and cook for the family. She loved working for the Snowdens, especially after Mike had paid her sister's medical bills and brother's college fees.
"I heard something," the middle-aged woman said.
"Don't worry. I've taken care of it." Phyllis returned the broom and dustpan to the little broom closet nestled between the dining room and kitchen.
"Scones for breakfast?" the sweet woman offered, placing a tray of freshly baked English scones in the centre of the table.
Phyllis smiled at her. "Thank you, Heather." She picked one up and bit into it. "I do enjoy your delicious English delights for breakfast. Your siblings must be missing you."
The brunette huffed and waved it off. "They can do fine without me." She glanced around. "Mr and Mrs Snowden are not here for breakfast?"
Phyllis lowered her lashes. She slowly put down her half-eaten scone. "They'll be down soon."
"Well, it's seven thirty. I was wondering if Mr Snowden wants to be late for work or not." She went into the kitchen, and returned almost immediately with a large plate laden with a high stack of pancakes. "And what about young Snowden?"
"Taking a shower."
"No. I mean your sister. I met little Snowden at the stairs."
Phyllis shrugged. "I have no idea. She had a tough night, maybe she deserves to sleep in."
A strange sound caught their attention. Both pairs of eyes went to the window. Heather approached it carefully.
"Is anyone outside?" Phyllis asked behind her.
"I don't think so. I always check the yard first each time I come over. There was no one there." She scanned the lawn that stretched outside. There was literally no movement.
Just then, a cracking sound was heard in the house. Followed by a hiss. Two bulbs blew in the living room.
The two women rushed there to check on it. There was no one there.
Phyllis picked up the house telephone and punched a number. "I'm calling Mike. He has to check on the power box right now."
While the teenager stood by the phone, Heather tried to clean up the mess. As she did so, there was another shattering sound elsewhere. She heaved a sigh as she emptied the dustpan into a wastebasket.
"No one's picking. Are they still asleep?" Phyllis dropped the phone and rushed up the stairs. There was the sound of running water coming from Cody's room. She went onwards till she got to the last door in the second floor hallway. She knocked several times on the door but no one answered. It was when she tried the knob that she got her answer.
They were not home yet.
"How's it going?" she asked as she stepped into the kitchen.
Heather sighed.
The frustration and confusion in her became obvious. She realised why. "Oh my God! The window!"
One of the window panes was a thousand pieces on the marbled floor. After coming out of her brief shock, Phyllis joined their housekeeper to deal with the kitchen.
"What happened last night?" Heather asked when they were done.
Phyllis glanced at the wall clock. She was late for school. "Nothing much."
"Are you sure? Because Cody looked terrible when I saw him. Like he didn't have enough sleep."
"I don't know. He was probably dealing with a nightmare." That brought Marilyn back to her mind. She and Sullivan were still upstairs, sleeping. They didn't know of the tragic news yet. Audrey wasn't in the house.
"Oh my! Poor child. I should probably get him something--"
"I don't need anything."
Their eyes snapped to the door. Cody stood there in a gray sweatshirt and blues jeans, hands in his pockets. "Is breakfast ready?"
Heather nodded. "It is. On the table and cold."
"I'm not hungry." He turned to leave, then paused as an afterthought. "Where's Jess?"
"I don't know," his stepsister replied. She brushed past him into the dining room to continue with her cold meal.
"She's causing a disaster here," he mumbled.
"Huh?"
"Nothing."
Cody frowned when he left the house and stepped under the morning sun. Everywhere was as still as ice. He walked around the house till he got to the back garden. He picked up a stick and tossed it to the centre of the foliage.
Nothing happened.
He picked up a thicker stick and tossed.
Jess' intense concentration broke when she felt something hard hit her head. Immediately her eyes went open, they were filled with fury. She willed whoever had distracted her into a black hole.
Just then, another stick whooshed past her head, narrowly missing her right ear. Okay, that's it.
She got to her feet at once, wrapping the blanket around her loosely. She stepped out of the hedge and came face to face with her little stepbrother.
"Can't you look for somewhere else for your stupid game?"
He put on an innocent look. "Sorry. Bored out of my mind."
"Then, you should be in school, working off that boredom with math and spelling."
He grumbled. "I don't wanna go to school."
She started walking away. "That's not my problem. You'll deal with Mom when she gets back."
"Where have you been?"
Jess rolled her eyes. The moment she'd entered the living room, Phyllis had met her with a frown, and fired the question.
"None of your b--"
"And before you finish that sentence, you'd have to know that it's my business to know if you're alive or not."
Her eyes went skyward as she said in a singsong voice, "Caring Phyllis, sweet Phyllis, loving Phyllis. The only perfect daughter of Zoe Curtis."
"I'm not, and point of correction, it's Zoe Snowden now. Deal with it. Besides, you're her perfect daughter, too."
"Not," she fired back. She paused on her way up the stairs. "You may not see it, but in her eyes, you're the perfect child. Well, before Cody came along and ruined the picture."
An audible sigh came from the doorway. "Why do I always walk in on one of you talking about me?"
Jess ignored him and continued her walk to her room.
Her calming technique had really worked, to the point of filling her with fatigue. Was this what Skeleptia felt like? Energy consuming? She'd thought her dad said it was for extra mental strength. Well, right now, she felt mentally exhausted, as she threw herself on the soft bed.
She let out a moan of satisfaction. "Sweet relief." Before anyone could say Jack Robinson, her eyes slid shut and she found herself in a perfectly silent world.
*****
"You weren't in school yesterday."
Jess slammed her locker shut after taking out her math textbook for calculus class. "Yeah."
"So was Eric," Karen went on. "You two were absent."
"Well, thank God we weren't in the same location." They started walking down the hall to their first class.
"Did you hear of the massacre?"
Jess would've replied that she saw it herself, but said instead, "Kinda."
Karen inhaled a sharp breath. "It was gory. You should've seen the graphic images on Channel 24. Mayor Lowery was devastated. His son was involved, too."
Jess frowned. "Involved? Did he lead the massacre team?"
Her friend pursed her lips. "No. He died like the other victims. Ripped to shreds."
"Have the police found the cause yet?"
"Nope. But they're scouting all forests now for the animal. Excuse me." She veered off to the left to meet Eva Lopez who'd motioned for her to her locker.
Jess pondered on what Karen had said. Animal. Animal? The thing she'd visualized was no animal. It was an unnatural creature.
She was so engrossed in her thoughts, she didn't see someone turn in her direction, until she walked into a hard chest. The books in her hands dropped to the floor. She looked up to glare at the person.
"Watch it, stupid." She bent down to pick up her books.
"Idiot," Eric murmured back.
"Àsswi--"
"Hey, Jess!"
She glanced up, then grumbled when she saw Doudall jogging towards her. When she rose to her feet, she realised that Eric was already many feet away.
"How ya doing?"
The bright smile on his face quenched her irritation. "Great."
"Really?" He glanced behind her. She followed his eyes and saw Eric giving her a direct cold stare.
"Ignore him. Jerks like to get attention. What's up?"
"I'm cool." A crease appeared between his brows. "I was worried the Massacre affected you."
"Hmm. This Massacre thing, it's really a hot topic."
He gave her a look. "Where have you been since yesterday?"
"Home." She glanced at him. They entered Room 12. Mr Rooney was already seated at a desk in the front left corner of the classroom, his pair of round glasses perched on his thin nose.
"Two nights ago, a rabid animal killed scores of civilians in Miami, including the mayor's son. Four police officers and a couple of veterans were also found dead."
Jess' mind barely processed the report. "Veterans? Hmph. Have they lost their fighting skills?"
He shrugged. "Who knows? They probably tried to fight it, but it overpowered them." He sat at a desk in the third row while she took the seat on his right. "According to the police this morning, the common organ missing from all the victims was the heart."
Unknown to anyone, Jess had noted that even before the police did. She curled her fingers on her table. "That's... That's gross."
"Yeah. Terrible sight, it is." He opened his book just as Mr Rooney rose to his feet to begin his lecture.
"Have they cleared the cemeteries?"
Doudall blinked; Jess tensed. He slowly faced her with wide, questioning brown eyes. "How did you know it happened in cemeteries?"
"Karen told me," she quickly said, shrugging one shoulder. She only hoped to God he wouldn't ask Karen. She wasn't in the mood for cooking up believable lies.
"Oh." Then, he faced the teacher and ended the conversation.
As Mr Rooney talked about integers, Jess let her mind wander. She would go to Du Mort Cemetery again. If Dylan's remains hadn't been cleared out, she'd use them to find the creature.
For the first time, Jess felt like doing something heroic with her psychic abilities. Although, if anyone asked her, she'd give them a made-up tale just to keep her powers a secret.
When the class was coming to an end, the person on her other side passed a note to her. "It's for you," the girl murmured.
Jess glanced at the piece of paper, then at her. "From who?"
She shrugged. "I have no idea."
Jess read it.
Show up behind the planetarium at recess.
Just like that. No signature, no initial. Only a sentence - no, a command - in an impeccable handwriting. WTF? Who the heck did this person think they were?
She clutched the paper in her hand tightly and closed her eyes. It took a minute before she could identify the source. Then, she opened her eyes and looked to her right.
There, sitting beside the window, Eric locked gazes with her. Briefly. Yet, Jess couldn't deny the dozens of emotions and messages in that one look.
One of them was curiosity.
Well, she was curious about him, too. But as she hurried out of Rooney's class, she scrunched up the paper and tossed it into the wastebasket beside the door, with a defying thought.
Eric Ashers could go to hell.