CHAPTER SEVEN
Alexi
I sat in the car, my eyes drifting over the large brick building at the opposite end of the parking lot. The sign reading GOLDEN OAKS ADULT DAYCARE AND RETIREMENT HOME was in need of a fresh coat of paint, and what used to be sharp lines of architectural detailing had blurred slightly with time or acid rain. Its window ledges were softened by smudges of snow, but the facility looked respectable.
And I had been here before.
Once to bring home a wayward retiree and once when Pietr called after falling from the second story chasing a kitten and mystifying the onlookers because he walked away with barely any bumps or bruises.
Then I’d returned another dozen times or so since learning my biological mother was a resident. Just to circle the parking lot, look up at the windows, and wonder which one was hers. And if she had ever peered out and noticed a red convertible.
Leaving.
As the sky began to darken at dusk I started the car again, remembering Max had promised to take Jessie home. Pulling out of my parking space, I counted the rows in the lot between the building’s entrance and me.
Twenty-two. The same as my age. A dabbler in the paranormal, as I knew Feldman to be, thanks to Jessie’s descriptions, would have thought there was some significance to such a coincidence.
I knew better. So I left without meeting her or even seeing her.
Again.
Marlaena
The truck rattled, bits of green flaking off its wheel wells. “Jesus, Gabe. Next time you grab a vehicle make sure it’s not gonna shake itself to bits.”
“Want something flashier?” he asked. “I’ve been eyeing other options, but the locals aren’t big on sexy cars.”
I jabbed a thumb in the direction of a gleaming red convertible leaving the school parking lot.
“There are exceptions to every rule,” he noted.
I looked in the rearview mirror. “Got what you need?” The truck heaved and bucked its way to the edge of Junction High’s property.
Fictional supernatural creatures abhorred holy ground. Me? I wouldn’t step foot on school property. Traditional education wasn’t my thing.
Gareth had already signed the appropriate enrollment papers as their guardian. The alpha that always ghosted around his edges made it easy to bluff his way into and out of situations like that.
In the rearview mirror Jordyn and Londyn rested their heads together and peered at me, a smile starting on Londyn’s lips and spreading to Jordyn’s. The twins were amazing. And a touch creepy.
“Bagged lunches—” Jordyn began.
“Full of preservative-rich foods—” Londyn continued.
“That Gabe acquired for us.”
“Acquired?”
Gabe mimicked their lazy smile and shrugged, a movement more innocent than he had any right to portray.
“Got pencils and paper?”
They nodded.
“We need more than supplies,” Gabe pointed out. “Instructions.”
“Stay quiet and out of trouble. Below the radar. Sniff around a bit. There’s more going on in this little town. I don’t want us falling into something we can’t fight our way out of.”
The twins nodded again, but Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “When will the rest be enrolled?”
“We’ll go in stages. Play things carefully here. More carefully than in Chicago. The last thing I want is to attract more attention or—”
“More trouble,” Jordyn concluded for me.
“Exactly,” Londyn agreed.
Gabe watched and said nothing.
Jessie
Junction High was swathed in black to acknowledge the latest of what had been dubbed by local newspapers the “Teen Train Track Suicides.” The suicide of Marvin Broderick was one of many. If any of the others had been suicides. Wrestling with the last textbook wedged in the bottom of my locker, I struggled with the fact there probably hadn’t been a single suicide among the list except for Marvin’s.
Even that one left doubts in my mind.
Had there been murders? Yes. Probably every death on the train tracks between Farthington and Junction had been the result of one twisted teen.
My head ached just thinking about him and I wondered how long someone that screwed up could maintain a hold on someone’s mind. Even after death.
“I can’t believe Derek’s still missing,” someone said to their friend as they walked down the hall. I shoved the last of my supplies into my book bag.
“It’s so awful,” the other agreed.
I sighed. Presumed missing was the team captain of the Junction Jackrabbits football team: hotshot jock, social manipulator, remote viewer, and energy transferer, Derek Jamieson. A psychic puppet master of sorts. And the guy I had moronically crushed on for years.
But “presumed missing” equated in this case to “dead and not entirely gone” since part of him still ghosted through me, skirting my brain and sharing memories. And although my mother had raised me to forgive people, I was finding some of her expectations for me were set a bit too high, considering current circumstances. Derek topped my list of the probably unforgivable.
He had been psychically feeding on both friends and competitors, a vampire of sorts without the need for blood—and most recently feeding on me—his hunger growing along with his other powers. He had also been one of the Rusakovas’ greatest obstacles in freeing their mother from a group believed to be CIA. And he had nearly … I stood, glancing at Amy, who waited patiently by my locker. He had nearly done to me what Amy’s ex had so willingly done to her.
The one thing that made the difference in my case?
The guy who was sure to have wanted to have made the same difference for Amy: Maximilian Rusakova—Pietr’s biological brother, Russian-American werewolf, and the guy with the reputation of previously being Junction’s stud and number-one player.
Max sidled over, careful to stay in Amy’s view and not spook her. Max did that now, taking extra precautions, being calmer and cooler, on her behalf. “Hey,” he whispered. Leaning over, he kissed her forehead.
She smiled at him, a hint of what used to be her old self showing in the tilt of her lips before it faded away.
“Yeah, it is awful,” the other anonymous friend agreed. I turned to take a look. They had stopped in the middle of the hall, the crowd of students passing on their way to homeroom thin at best because of the odd illnesses striking down student after student. “I mean, what are we going to do for a football team next year?”