A heavy thumping pulls me from troubled dreams. I roll over, almost falling off the edge of the sofa. My body throbs and I sit up with a start, wincing at the sharp pain in my ribs. Did I dream all of that, or did I really get my ass handed to me by Monique and a gang of Redeemers last night?
The thudding comes again and I turn my attention to the front door. Someone’s knocking. I have no idea what time it is because all I have to go by is dark and darker. I move toward the door, my shoes sticking to the floor when I walk in front of the window.
Gross. Gross. Gross.
Judy.
I totally just walked in a pool of her blood. I’m seriously going to be sick.
I place my ear against the door, checking to see if I can hear who is responsible for the incessant knocking.
“Caitlyn, open the door. We need to get to the square,” Nana says. If I didn’t know she was a crazy, half-dead something or other I’d be surprised she knew it was me.
I unlatch the lock and pull the door open to reveal a very well-dressed Nana. The tan slacks and pink silk blouse suit her. Problem is, it doesn’t quite fit the mood of our current situation. She looks a little too spring-ish and summer-ish and not enough death and dismemberment.
“Where’s your father?” she asks, bursting into the house. She makes no mention of witnessing a battle last night, but the pain coursing through my body tells me there is no way it could have been a dream, and if my memory serves me correctly, she was there at the end.
“I assume he’s still sleeping.”
“Go clean yourself up while I wake him.”
I start toward the stairs, stopping when she places a hand on my shoulder. The now familiar tingling of her inner Redeemer courses through me and I shrug her off.
“And for God’s sake, if you decide to pull another rescue mission like you did last night, wear that pendant your mother gave you. It was given to you for a reason. They can track you when you’re not wearing it. Didn’t she tell you anything?”
“No. I—I—didn’t know. I just wanted to find Mitch before … ” My words catch in my throat. I can’t say it. Is he dead?
“Mitchell is safe … for now. They don’t make the offering until the final night.” She stops speaking, and the look on her face leads me to believe she’s said too much.
“So, Chas? She’s alive?” My heart swells with happiness at the possibility. “How did I get home last night? The last thing I remember is being pulled from the roof, and—”
“We don’t have time to talk about this right now. We have to get into town. Clean yourself up so we can go.”
***
Once we arrive at the church, my father and I take our places on the steps. I stare at my feet, listening to the murmurings of the townsfolk as they filter into the square. I glance up to find Monique’s pale face staring back at me, a look of pure delight in her eyes. She knows I’m suffering and it pleases her. Rage fills my bones when I think of how she handed me my ass last night. I have to stop myself from flying down the steps and wrapping my hands around her throat. Now is not the time. I’ll take her down before the end of the week.
I scan the crowd, my eyes stopping on Trevor and his mother as they slowly walk toward us. Mason is nowhere to be found. He’s probably perched in a tree somewhere, eager to swoop in and eat me.
Trevor looks as ragged as I feel. Dark circles line his eyes and his Boise State cap sits atop a mass of unkempt hair. He doesn’t see me. I want to call to him. Run to him. Wrap myself around him, but I can’t. I have to stand here with my father and accept responsibility for the sin that caused the Redeemers to take my brother and kill my stepmother.
As if he heard my silent plea, Trevor raises his head, meeting my gaze. His face floods with obvious relief and a smile breaks out across his face. I smile back, tears threatening to push from my eyes. He scans the stairs and his face falls. He pushes through the crowd, stopping when he gets to the bottom of the steps. Neither of us speaks; we just stare at one another. Finally he says, “Mitch?”
That one word is all it takes to release the tears I’ve held back. They spill down my cheeks as Trevor begins to climb the steps, arms outstretched. Reverend Carter moves in front of him before he can reach me, cutting him off. “I’m sorry, Mr. Perkins. We’re ready to begin. Please join your family.”
Trevor peers at me over the Reverend’s shoulder, the sorrow he feels for me written over his face. He slowly backs down the steps, his sympathetic eyes on mine before turning and walking back to his mother.
As Reverend Carter begins his standard welcoming speech, I scan the faces looking up at my father and me, most filled with pity, others with shock as they realize both Judy and Mitch are no longer with us.
“Last night the Foster family lost two members to the Redeemers. Young Mitchell was taken as punishment for the families sins of gluttony and wrath.”
Really?
“As most of you know, young Caitlyn here struggles with drug addiction, a gluttonous sin that, when paired with her wrath over her mother’s murder, is a recipe for disaster. Unfortunately, Judith Foster was killed last night when she left the house to try to retrieve her son. The rules explicitly state that no one shall leave their homes outside the appointed times. The Redeemers considered her a willing sacrifice and took her life just as they took Mr. Edwards’s a few nights ago. There will be a memorial service next week in honor of them both.” He speaks with such eloquence, his words dripping with insincere pity. Naturally, he put this on me. He’s trying to break me. I won’t let it happen. I can’t. “Today, I present to the family a vial of young Mitchell’s blood as a reminder of Caitlyn’s sin. Your family is now absolved. May you find peace.”
I look away when he hands the vial to my dad. I fight back my tears, praying for Mitch’s safety, doing my best to ignore the choked sobs coming from my father. I remind myself that Mitch is not dead. I’ll get to him. I’ll save him.
“Let us pray.”
Reverend Carter reaches out his hands—one to my father and the other to me. I look at him in defiance. I don’t want to touch him.
“Miss Foster?” he says, eyes filled with disdain. Remembering my grandmother’s request from earlier, I reluctantly extend my hand to him.
His cold, clammy skin sticks to mine. The minute I touch him the stone around my neck gives a tug and a shuddering pulse begins in my chest, then travels down my arm. I hear him gasp, and the same feeling I had when I touched the creature last night fills my body.
Just as I suspected. He’s not even human. How awesome would it be if I smoked his ass right here in front of everyone? What kind of shit-storm would that cause?
When he tries to pull away I grasp his hand, refusing to let go. He struggles against me, but I hold tight, watching the color of his iris fade and the whites of his eyes turn black. He finally manages to wrench his hand free, fearfully staring at me. This goes unnoticed by the townsfolk who have their heads bowed in prayer. All but one. Trevor saw what happened. How will I explain this to him?
After the prayer, my father looks distant and somber, as though all his grief was pulled out of him and tossed into the air to float away in the mist. He shakes Reverend Carter’s hand before placing an arm around my shoulders and leading me down the stairs.
Dad stops to speak with a few of the townsfolk who offer their condolences. I ignore them all and push past. There’s only one person I want to talk to right now.
“What happened up there?” Trevor whispers in my ear as he pulls me to his chest. “It looked like the Reverend was in pain when you touched him.”
“He’s not human.”
“What do you mean?”
“I felt this pulling sensation when I took his hand.” I step back and look at him, glancing around to make sure no one is listening. “Last night when the Redeemers came into our house I touched one of them and this—power—or something shot through my body. It’s like I drained it. It disintegrated. When I touched Reverend Carter just now I got the same feeling. I think he’s one of them. I can’t explain it.”
Trevor looks at me, unsure of how to respond. “Are you going to be okay?” he asks, cupping my face in his hands. “I’m worried about you. You’re not making sense.”
Of course I’m not. Why would he believe his girlfriend has crazy powers?
“I don’t know,” I say. “There’s something you don’t know about me. It’s hard to explain.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “It can’t possibly be any stranger than what is currently taking place in this town.” He glances over my shoulder at his mom. “I have to go. I’m so sorry about Mitch and Judy. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks,” I say before pressing my lips to his.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Try to get some rest.”
He kisses me one last time before leaving me alone with my thoughts.
“Cait, I’m sorry.” Jeb’s voice pulls me from my pity party. He looks even worse today than yesterday. He wraps his arms around me and my tears begin to fall again. “I’m so sick of this. I can’t believe they took Mitch. He was a little kid.” His voice catches and he pulls away from me, running a hand over his face. Mitch was best friends with Jeb’s brother, Beau, and spent a lot of time at their place. Jeb was like his big brother.
“I know, but I’m going to get him back. Chas, too.” I squeeze his hand in reassurance, and he looks at me, puzzled.
“How? They’re gone. They’re not coming back.”
“There’s a way.” I catch a glimpse of my grandmother walking in my direction. It’s time to leave. “I can’t go into it right now, but just trust me, okay?”
“It’s time to go home, Cait,” my grandmother says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I follow her and Dad toward home, only half listening to their hushed conversation of funeral arrangements and flowers. When we reach the edge of the church parking lot, Miss Simmons appears out of nowhere, staring at me with that strange stoic expression of hers. She’s like a professional creeper.
She approaches us, her eyes trained on me the entire time. She opens her arms like she expects me to run to her. Okay, creepy lady with killer fashion sense who I don’t really know. What’s up with the hug attempt?
Nana swoops in for the rescue, stepping between us. “Is there something I can help you with, Traci?”
“No,” Miss Simmons says, her eyes never leaving my face. “I just wanted to offer my condolences for your loss.”
A shiver runs down my spine. There’s something familiar about her, but I can’t place it. It freaks me out a little.
“We appreciate that,” my father says.
Miss Simmons flinches and looks away, as though it pains her to look at him.
“You should be getting home,” Nana says. I can’t ignore the warning tone in her voice.
“Of course,” Miss Simmons says. “Be safe.”
When we get home, I notice that Judy’s body is gone. The only sign that anything happened last night is the plywood that garnishes the picture window at the front of the house.
“Will she come back? Will they make her one of them?” I ask Nana after my father has stepped inside.
“No. She’s gone,” Nana says, pointedly. “She wasn’t needed.”
I nod and go inside to change. How do they decide who comes back? Obviously, Monique came back because her dad is like the king of Redeemer land, but why not Judy or Mr. Edwards?
When I return, I find a plate of ham-and-cheese sandwiches waiting on the table with a note from my grandmother.
You have to eat. Don’t let them go to waste. Get some rest.
Love,
Nana
I can’t imagine eating right now, but surprisingly enough my stomach growls. I place two of the sandwiches on a plate along with some chips and a couple of cookies, and then grab a bottle of water and carry it back to my dad’s room. I tap on the door to announce my arrival before pushing it open. He sits in bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.
I place the plate and bottle of water on the nightstand. “Nana left some sandwiches and cookies. You need to eat.”
“Thanks,” he says, without really looking at me. “You’re a good girl. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Is this how it’s going to be if I don’t save Mitch? The two of us moping around sharing awkward conversations and uncomfortable silences? It can’t.
“Everything will be all right. We’ll get through this.” His voice is hollow and unconvincing. I stare at his face, studying him, wondering if he really believes this. It’s like he’s not here. Ever since the Gathering this morning he seems different.
“Get some rest.” I say, closing the door behind me.
I sit at the kitchen table, my eyes trained on the plywood covering the window. The silence of the house is deafening without Mitch’s constant chatter. I find myself humming a Lady Gaga song just to keep from going insane. I light a couple of candles on the table and then pick up one of the sandwiches. The minute I bite into it I realize just how hungry I am. Before I know it, I’ve started on a second. I polish off a bag of chips and two cookies before my stomach finally tells me it’s had enough.
I blow out the candles and walk into the living room. A damp chill hangs in the air, my fingers are icicles. I’ve never started a fire before in my life, but somehow I manage to get at least a small one going with a newspaper and a match. I throw a log into the fireplace, hoping it will take off. I collapse on the sofa, too exhausted to bother climbing the stairs, and before I know it, I’m asleep.
I awaken to the sounds of creaking floor boards. The fire in the fireplace barely smolders and there’s a definite chill in the air. The room is dark without the blaze of the fire, and I can barely see the silhouette of someone standing in the kitchen.
“Dad? Is that you?” Duh, Cait. Who else could it be?
“No, it’s me,” Trevor says, stepping into the living room.
“How long have you been here?” I ask, sitting up and massaging the crick in my neck.
“Not long. I didn’t want to wake you. Is it okay that I’m here?” He stands before me, his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah, of course. Just don’t let the Redeemers find you.”
“It’s chilly in here.” He crouches next to the fireplace and throws a few newspapers inside. He pokes it a few times with the fireplace poker and it blazes, lighting up the room in its wake.
“What time is it?” I feel like I haven’t slept in years.
He checks his old wind-up watch as he sits on the couch next to me. “It’s going on ten.”
I’m seriously going to have to invest in one of those if I plan on living here much longer.
“Ten a.m., right?” That would explain the grogginess. I’d only been asleep for about thirty minutes.
“No, p.m.”
“Are you being serious?” I slept for twelve hours? That’s twelve hours lost. Twelve hours that I could have used to do research, or work on my powers.
“Yes, I’m being serious. How long have you been asleep?” he asks, smoothing the hair from my face.
“Way too long. I’ll be right back.” I leave him sitting with a confused look on his face as I dash up the stairs to change. It takes me less than five minutes to slip on a pair of jeans, put my hair up, and grab a few candles before rushing back. I place my things on the table as I put my running shoes on.
“Hey, slow down. Where do you think you’re off to?”
“I have to … work on something,” I say as I tie my last shoe.
“Cait, you can’t stop this. There’s nothing you can do,” he says, taking me by the shoulders. “Let it go.”
“What if I can stop it? What if I can fight the Redeemers?”
“It’s not possible,” he says, shaking his head. “You’ve seen what happens to anyone who tries to fight them.”
“That’s the thing,” I say. “You haven’t seen what I can do to them. I have powers. I can stop them.”
He stares at me blankly, but he doesn’t laugh. That’s a good sign.
“What exactly is it you can do?”
“It has something to do with my ancestry. Something with the Nez Perce blood in my veins. My mother was a threat to them. That’s how she got away. Whatever power she had was passed on to me.”
“And you know this how?”
“Mom left me a letter. She didn’t explain everything, but I did something last night when the Redeemers came into our home. I killed one of them. I touched it and it exploded.”
He shakes his head, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. “You can’t kill what’s already dead.”
“But I did.”
“So, you’re really going to trust a letter from your dead mother? What if she’s wrong? What if you can’t do what she says you can? You have to admit, it sounds pretty crazy.”
“You saw Reverend Carter’s reaction when I touched him this morning. I have to try.” I give him a peck on the cheek and move toward the front door.
“You can’t go that way,” he says, stopping me.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have the same type of Redeemer melting power that you do, and they could kill me.”
“You can’t come with me. I can’t put you in danger like that. Grab one of the candles and go back through the tunnels to your house,” I plead.
“If you walk around outside they will see you. They’ll more than likely guess what you are up to. You could be ambushed. Whatever power it is you claim to have might not be strong enough to take on a whole horde of them at once. Remember what happened the first night they came? I think it might be safer in the tunnels. Besides, I need my super-hero girlfriend to protect me if one of those dudes in the cloaks finds me down there.”
I know he’s right after what happened last night. Going outside probably isn’t the best idea. I take his hand and he pulls me into his arms, kissing me firmly on the mouth.
“You’re staying at your house, though. Got it? I’m not going to risk losing you. And since when am I your girlfriend?”
He blushes and looks away. “We’ll talk about it later,” he says, grabbing a candle and heading for the basement.
“Okay, but I’m serious about you not coming with me.” My tone is firm, but he ignores it.
“We’re wasting time with all this discussion. Let’s go,” he says, disappearing into the basement.
I glance over my shoulder, searching the hallway for signs of movement. My dad’s bedroom door remains closed. He’ll probably sleep through the night. I should leave him a note in case I don’t make it back, but I decide not to bother.
Trevor extends his hand and guides me down the stairs to the basement. He briefly stops to kiss me before leading me to the back wall. The door to the tunnels is slightly ajar, and when we pull it open a shriek escapes me when I see the figure standing there. Trevor steps in front of me, ready to fight.
“It’s all right. It’s just me.” Miss Simons steps out of the shadow of the doorway and into the flickering light of Trevor’s candle. “I’ve come to help you.”