The fire crackles. We both jump. Jumping is not part of the plan.
“So she had sex with him to get him to stop taking the boys.”
Betty just squeezes her arm around my shoulders a little tighter. “Yep.”
“Oh my God. So I’m basically the child of a rape?”
“She was willing. She consented.”
“Because she had to!”
“She chose to save those boys, Zara. She was brave. Maybe stupid, but brave.”
“But now it’s starting all over again.”
“His need has returned.”
I think about it. “When is she going to get here?”
“Tonight. Around seven probably.”
“And he wants her back because he needs to turn her, so he can be powerful again.” It’s not a question, it’s just me trying to get the truth into my brain, trying to understand it all.
She doesn’t answer, just stands up and says, “I’m going to see what we have for supper.”
I slowly move my head. “You want help?”
“Nah, you just sit there and let things settle. You’ve got a lot to think about.”
It’s time for the plan. I say my lines really slowly, the lines we planned back at the hospital. “I guess you’d better be getting a call soon, huh?”
She stares back at me. We talk like the house is bugged. Neither of us know about pixie hearing, but we aren’t going to chance it.
“You still think I should go in if I get a call?” she says. She lowers her voice. “I’m not sure if we can just leave you here without Nick close by.”
What she means is: can we do the plan without Nick?
“Yeah,” I say. “You can. I’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”
“I’d rather he came.” She shuffles over and kisses the top of my head. “It’s good to have my granddaughter back.”
“It’s good to be back,” I say, because it is.
So I sit there. I sit and sit and sit, but I do not think at all about our plan or how Nick’s sudden departure makes us down one were. I just remember how it felt to have Nick’s lips moving against my lips. I just remember how warm he is.
A couple minutes later my grandmother’s beeper goes off. She eyes me, man-strides over, and takes my pulse, which is ridiculous. I broke my arm, not my heart. Then she checks my head for fever. I must pass because she straightens up and crosses her arms in front of her chest.
“They’ve got a big accident on the way to Acadia. Life Flight might have to fly in. They’ve called me on,” she says really slowly. “I think I have to go. That okay with you?”
“Yep.” I grab my Norton Anthology of British Literature. I have so much homework to catch up on. I’ve missed two days of school. It’s plausible for me to grab it.
She pulls on the coat that hangs from a peg by the front door. “I’ve called Nick. He should be here in ten minutes.”
“He’s coming here? He didn’t go all wolf and attack some sheep or something?”
She smiles. “He’s a hothead, but he’s not a fool.”
I don’t say anything.
“You’re blushing,” she teases.
“You are not a nice grandmother.”
She opens the door. Cold air bursts in and the fire in the woodstove seems to grow taller. “But you still love me?”
“Of course,” I say.
“Good. You take it easy. I’ll be back soon, but not too soon, if you know what I mean.”
Then she mouths the words, “Stay safe.”
She winks and is gone.
Grandmothers.
He arrives about five minutes after Betty leaves.
He knocks on the door, which I know Betty left unlocked so I wouldn’t have to get off the couch.
I don’t invite him in. He just walks on through. Obviously he’s been here before. Obviously he is the one who pretended to be my dad.
He’s still wearing the black cloak that he had on when I saw him at the airport in Charleston and outside the cafeteria doors. He is tall and pale, like me. His hair shines dark and wavy and well cut. He has deep eyes that are beautiful, like the trunks of big trees.
I freeze.
“Zara.”
He lets my name dangle there. Then, as casual as anything, he shuts the door behind him. The cold air stays in the room. I shiver.
“You’re cold? I’ll put another log on the fire.”
He strides across the room, opens the stove door, and puts another log in. Sparks fly up. He catches one in his hand and crushes it, then lets go. He isn’t burned.
I find my voice. “What are you?”
He cocks his head at me and wipes his hands together like he is getting rid of dirt. “You don’t know?”
“I have no clue.” I am almost telling the truth, because I know the basic facts of what he is, but not the essence. I am far, far away from the essence.
I pull myself up straighter on the couch.
“You saw me at the airport, and I called to you in the woods,” he says. “And when your surrogate father died I was there.”
“At the window.”
He nods.
We let this news settle over us for a minute. Surrogate father? Only father is more like it. “Did you kill him?”
“Of course not.”
“Really?”
He fiddles with the fire, tossing an ember back and forth between his palms. It would be cool if it wasn’t so freaky.
“You’re following me,” I finally say. “Why?”
“Because I’m trying to reclaim what’s mine.”
“I’m not yours.”
“You are. You always have been. You always will be.”
“That’s crap.”
“Is it? Look inside yourself, Zara. I think you’ll find what’s true.”
“I don’t know what’s true anymore. But I know you’re starting to sound like a bad ripoff of Darth Vader in an old Star Wars movie. And I know you’re trying to hurt me.”
He shakes his head and listens to the air. “Never.”
“Which part? The Darth thing or the hurting thing?”
“Both.”
I roll my eyes. I look around for a weapon. There’s the fireplace poker, but it’s pretty far away. There’s the lamp, but can I really do any damage one-handed? I just need to get him outside.