“How to put this?” Ben sat on the hay bale from earlier, watching Nate use the flashlight function of his phone to find his clothes. “I don’t want to offend you, Nate, but a barn is not really doing it for me romantically.”
Nate looked over his shoulder. Ben couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but he suspected Nate grinned. “You weren’t complaining earlier.”
“That was earlier.” Ben shifted, trying to find a place free of scratchy hay stalks. He was reluctant to leave―there was a lot unfinished between them―but the hay was uncomfortable.
Nate held up his T-shirt, shaking it out. “Take a look at the loft.”
Ben looked over to the ladder. The middle of it was draped in moonlight, but the top was obscured by shadow. “In the dark?”
“Doesn’t seem to bother you any.” Nate started to pull the shirt on. “Go on. Do it.”
Ben paused to size up the ladder. It was true. The dark didn’t intimidate him at all. This is a vampire hangover I don’t mind.
The ladder was firmly wedged in place. Ben climbed onto the upper ledge with ease. The steep sides of the roof were cloaked in darkness, but Ben made out the edges of stacked cardboard boxes. Here and there an odd piece of furniture protruded. An ornate wooden headboard, a child’s car seat and an empty bird cage were distinguishable among the shadows. There was a square of light across the loft, coming from a window set high in the wall. It gave definition to the furniture and revealed a loose pile of hay, swept together and covered with blankets and a pillow to create a makeshift mattress.
Ben heard the ladder creek behind him and turned to see Nate―now clothed―climb onto the loft. “What was that about wanting to talk?”
Nate ran a hand through his hair. “I figured after we were done talking, I’d see if you wanted to sleep out here. And if you did―well, something could have happened.”
Ben narrowed his eyes, sizing up Nate’s uncharacteristic awkwardness. Sex was fine, but inviting Ben to spend the night with him was hard? He blinked as an explanation occurred. “You haven’t had a lot of relationships.”
“You got me.” Nate settled himself down on the mattress. “Sex, yes. Plenty of that. Relationships, only the two.”
He looked lonely on the mattress. Even though Ben knew he was probably doing exactly what Nate wanted him to do, he joined him. Nate immediately settled an arm around him, and Ben leaned against his side. “How come?”
“My first boyfriend―first relationship―just disappeared one day. Didn’t call, didn’t write―didn’t tell anyone he was going. I still have no idea why.”
“Is that why you dated a girl next?”
“Nah. Amber was your typical dumb high school romance. In retrospect, we had nothing in common―she never wanted to hang out here at the farm, and most of the time we spent together, she talked about all the things she wanted to do as soon as she was old enough to ditch Little River.” Nate shrugged. “She dumped me the day after graduation. I was devastated at the time, but in retrospect, I think she’d planned it months earlier, but wanted to make sure she had a date for prom.”
“She sounds like you’re better off without her.” Ben winced. That sounded woefully inadequate. “I’m sorry.”
Nate stretched out on the mattress, his arm still looped around Ben’s waist. “It’s cool. You’re way better than them in so many ways―actually being here, for one.”
Ben winced. “I had a conversation with your mother earlier tonight. She suggested I should leave.”
“She said the same thing to me.” Nate threaded his fingers through Ben’s. “Told me the responsible thing to do would be to send you back to New Camden on the next bus.”
“If your mother wants me to leave―”
Nate shook his head decisively. “She’s not going to kick you out. You’re a guest.”
Ben hesitated. “She said something about a judgment. You have any idea what she means?”
“She’s rattled―what happened tonight really shook her. You shouldn’t take her seriously.” Nate caught himself. “I mean, if you want to leave, I won’t stop you. But…”
Ben squeezed his hand, before settling himself down beside Nate. “It’s going to take more than a murder investigation to get rid of me.”
“That shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does.” Nate pulled the blanket over both of them.
Is Nate a horrible person at heart, too? Ben settled his head on Nate’s shoulder. “A murder won’t drive me away, but this hay bed might.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Nate sounded far too pleased with himself.
Ben rolled his eyes. “Goodnight, Nate.”
✩✩✩
Ben gasped.
Where am I? He sat in pitch blackness. The air was heavy. Someone―Nate―breathed evenly beside him.
Something buzzed. For a brief second only, the surrounding boxes and the slanting roof beams of the barn were illuminated by the glow of Nate’s phone as a text message appeared.
Ben breathed out. Moon must have gone behind a cloud or something. That’s all.
Nate stirred beside him, murmuring a sleepy protest. At some point in the night, his arm had snuck around Ben’s waist.
Ben placed a hand over his face. His skin was cold and sweaty. “Just a dream.”
What woke me up? Nothing concrete came to mind, but a lingering sense of threat remained. It occupied the surrounding dark, pressing down on Ben with a hunger that was palpable.
Ben maneuvered himself out from underneath the blanket. I’m too hot, that’s all. That’s why I feel clammy. He took a deep breath. This is all imagination.
Nate slept soundly, not stirring as Ben repositioned himself.
No wonder. He’s probably exhausted. Ben smiled as he stroked Nate’s hair out of his face. After the day they’d had, Nate needed this. Am I taking care of Nate? Giving him what he needs? Or―Ben frowned, assessing his own previously contented state―is he taking care of me?
Unaware of the suspicion directed at him, Nate sighed softly.
Does it matter? If Nate enjoys taking care of me, the end result is the same. He closed his eyes as he settled back to sleep.
Fifteen minutes later, Ben realized he wasn’t sleeping. The threat from earlier had wound its way into his thoughts. But this time, I’m wide awake. Staying still, Ben listened for any indication that something wasn’t right.
He heard nothing.
Ben’s heart sped up. The farmhouse’s boards shifted at times, and he’d often heard the rustling of mice in the walls. That the barn, just as old, would lack both these sounds was weird. What’s going on? The longer Ben lay there, the more convinced he was that something waited in the dark, its gaze focused on the back of Ben’s neck.
What will it take for me to get a decent night’s sleep? Ben shut his eyes, willing his thoughts clear. He steadied his breathing, focusing on keeping his mind clear. A few minutes of this and he felt himself slip back into sleep.
The lingering influence followed him into his dream. Or was it a memory?
✩
Ben was surrounded by it as he stood in his parents’ bedroom in New Camden. He was nine years old, watching his mother pack. She stood with her back toward him. Her suitcase was spread out open on the bed. Ignoring his sobs, she took her dresses from the wardrobe, folding them briskly.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” She didn’t look down at him. She emptied the top drawer of the dresser straight into her suitcase.
“No! Please!” He clung to her arm, trying with all his nine-year-old strength to stop her. “I didn’t mean that! I’m sorry–”
She shook him off and shut the suitcase. In a few clasps, it was locked, ready to go. Ben watched her pull on her coat with increasing desperation. “No! You can’t! Please–”
“But if you don’t love me, Benny, then Mommy has no reason to stay.”
He tangled himself in her feet, falling over himself in a last-ditch effort to stop her from going. “I do! I didn’t mean what I said! I’m sorry― I’m sorry! Don’t go―”
She paused then, kneeling to face him. Ben’s body heaved and shook as if he were violently ill. But she simply tipped his face up to look at her. There was an intensity in her eyes that always scared him a little. “Do you mean that, Benny? You do love me?”
He had nodded, unable to speak.
“Mommy doesn’t believe you, Benny. You hurt her feelings very much. No–” she put her finger out, resting it on his lips before he could protest. “You can’t just say you love Mommy. You have to prove it.” She looked at him again. For a moment, there was something hard, something hungry, looking out at him behind his mother’s eyes. “Will you do that, Benny? Will you prove to Mommy that you do love her?”
He nodded, too shaken to do anything else.
She held out her hand. “That’s my good boy.” Taking firm hold of his hand, she led him to the door.
Ben craned his neck to look at the suitcase resting against the wall. “You’re not going away?”
“Not if you pass Mommy’s test.” She led him out the front door, shutting it behind them.
“Where are we going?”
“Why, to your special place, of course. The place you love more than your very own Mommy.”
✩✩✩
The light coming in the barn window was faded and gray, reflecting the early-morning sky outside. It gave the loft a washed-out feeling. Ben, leaning against the boxes behind the mattress, felt permeated by its early-morning dullness. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there before the night gave way to dull half light. After the second bad dream, he’d decided to wait for the dawn.
Nate’s breath hitched. Ben looked down at the sleeping man beside him to see Nate’s brow furrowed, his eyelids flickering rapidly. He brushed Nate’s hair, careful to avoid the bandage. “It’s a dream. That’s all.”
Nate sighed, slipping back into deep sleep.
Ben’s hand came to a halt.
When Nate was still like this, the resemblance to Ethan was uncanny. Identical twins. I really should be over this. But every time it surprised Ben again. Why does it bother me so much? I know this is Nate.
Even so. Identical twins weren’t actually identical, right? There was a freckle, a birthmark, something like that. There had to be.
Ben smirked at the thought of asking Nate if he could check him for freckles―He’d be all over that―but his smile quickly faded. Even in the daylight, his feeling of foreboding lingered.
Looking around for any distraction, Ben studied the surrounding boxes. It appeared that the police had given the barn a cursory search, the boxes opened, but their contents left undisturbed. A leather cover was just visible, poking out of one of the boxes. A photo album?
Moving carefully to avoid waking Nate, Ben climbed off the bed. He paused to shake the hay out of his hair―hay, Ben was discovering, had an incredible tendency to go exactly where it was least wanted―before lifting the album out of the box. Beneath it was a second album, and beneath that, a collection of coats, too small now for any member of the family.
Ben sat on the floor, leaning back against the boxes, and opened the photo album.
Ma sat in a hospital bed, looking down at a tiny baby swathed in cloth. Didn’t she say these photos were getting restored? The baby was tiny, red and grumpy, like all newborns, but Ma looked down at her child as if she’d never seen anything she liked more. The next photo was of the grumpy baby alone, and then held by Pa, who looked as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
Good thing Nate isn’t asking me to identify who is who here. The small, red, thing could be either brother―or neither. Ben frowned as he turned the page. There were no photos of the twins together. Could it be these aren’t the twins? Ben continued to flick through the book. All babies look the same. Maybe there was an older sibling who died young.
The baby celebrated its first birthday apparently alone. As Ben continued through the pages of the album, the baby was christened, sat on various people’s laps, and celebrated its first birthday. It produced dark hair, and its eyes became a warm hazel.
Family resemblance, Ben told himself. Of course, he’s going to look like Nate and Ethan. They’re brothers. He reached the end of the album, but something large was tucked in with the pocket for negatives. Ben lifted it out. A birth certificate?
GRANGER, ETHAN ROOSEVELT. Born to GRANGER, EMMA CHARITY nee HALSWELL and GRANGER, MITCHELL in ROCKFORD GENERAL HOSPITAL.
The date and signatures followed. Ben gave them a cursory skim, more interested in the discovery of Ethan’s middle name. I can see why he’d hide that. Did Nate have an equally embarrassing middle name? Eisenhower? Please let it be Eisenhower.
But there was no other certificate in the album, just a few cards congratulating Emma and Mitchell on the birth of their son.
Maybe they made a separate album for each son? It would have been a lot of work, but if Ma had crafted the quilt on the spare-room bed, then she evidently had time to spare.
The second album picked up where the first one left off. The baby―Ben insisted on calling him Ethan―learned to walk and was soon accompanying his mother outside into the garden. There was no sign of his brother. Or that Ma was expecting again, though Ben was abandoning that theory. The toddler had something about him that was already reminiscent of the twins.
The album followed him all the way up to his fourth birthday then the photos abruptly finished, mid-album. Ben checked, but there was nothing tucked away at the end.
Ben closed the album and laid it flat on his lap.
His hands were clammy. There’s an explanation. Another album, just of Nate’s photos. Maybe a third for all the photos of the twins together. But he knew that was not the case. Ma lied. Not only had she lied, but she’d also hidden the album where it would not be seen.
Ben’s heart thudded in his chest.
Ma didn’t want the photos seen because they meant something, he was sure of it. But what?
Changeling? Ben licked dry lips. There hadn’t been a verified case in decades, but people were less likely to associate a child acting oddly with the fae these days. Ethan’s definitely got the signs of being other… But according to all recorded accounts, the fae kept the human child. Nate wasn’t human―unless his powers were a result of time spent with his fae abductors?
Or is the answer closer to home? Ma said a judgment… The album pressed on Ben’s lap like a weight. Demonic involvement? Nate said he was thirteen when Olivia was killed. The demon worked at ten-year intervals, so he’d have been three when the deal was made. Could Ma have made a pact with a demon for a second child? Ethan celebrated his fourth birthday alone―it doesn’t add up. Perhaps Ma knew something or had seen something and not come forward to the police about it? A guilty conscience could come from anywhere, and Ben suspected that Ma had a finely honed sense of guilt.
Am I overthinking this? There could be any number of explanations―one of the twins was switched at birth, or a mix-up at the hospital… But if the explanation is normal, why hide the album? No matter how he looked at it, Ben couldn’t get past that one fact.
“What’s got you looking so serious?” Nate’s voice was thick with sleep. He raised his head only high enough to glance at his phone screen. “At―Jesus. Have you looked at the time?”
Ben didn’t smile. He felt a feeling of dread settle in his stomach, hard as a stone. “Have you ever seen your baby photos?”
“Baby photos?” Nate tilted his head. “Nah. They were lost when we were little. Pa had a bonfire going one day, and either me or Ethan had the bright idea of throwing more things onto it. The photo album was one of the casualties.”
Ben’s heart sped up in his chest. Not a surprise that Ma had lied to him. But to lie to Nate? “What about your birth certificate. Ever tried to get hold of it?”
“Actually, that’s a funny story. There was a weird mix-up with my birth certificate. When I applied for a copy to get my driver’s license, they said I didn’t have one. I guess someone at the hospital forgot to record my birth, and it took months to sort out―the hospital refused to admit there’d been a mistake.”
“And Ethan?”
Nate waved a hand dismissively. “His was fine. Got his license a full three months before I did, because of it all―the jerk.”
Ben’s fingers were clamped around the album. “And you don’t think that’s odd?”
“Obnoxious, yes. Odd, no. You might not think it, but he will remind me that he is the older brother any chance he can.” Nate pulled himself up into a sitting position. “What’s up? You look…grim.”
Ben’s mouth drooped. “I’ve found something.”
“Something,” Nate repeated. “Supernatural something?” At Ben’s nod, he frowned. “What happened to not investigating, Ben?”
“You decided that,” Ben shot back. “Not me.”
“But you agreed―”
“Because you asked me.” There was way more heat in that than Ben had intended. He let out a breath, forcing himself to continue in a much more reasonable tone. “You―it’s really hard to say no to you even when I know I should.”
Shock followed by hurt flickered across Nate’s face. His expressive mouth wavered unhappily before settling in a pout. “What are you saying exactly?”
Ben felt an immediate desire to take the words back, apologize for hurting Nate―And that is exactly the problem. He steadied his hands on the photo album. “You’re―really intense. I like that a lot. But when we disagree on something…” Ben swallowed. Nate’s eyes were fixed on him in a mute appeal that was really hard to ignore. “I end up giving way because I want to make you happy. So I say yes to things I don’t agree with.”
“Like?”
“Investigating.” It felt like Nate was getting farther away even though neither of them had moved. “Yes, I want an ordinary life, but not at the cost of someone else’s suffering. I can help, but you’re too scared to let me.”
Nate’s hands gripped the blanket tightly. “I’m thinking of what’s best for you, Ben. You’ve been part of ARX for years. You’ve lost whatever normal life you had for so long, you don’t remember it.”
“Which is why I can help. I’ve got more practical experience and knowledge than anyone on the police team―and I’m doing nothing with it.” Ben took a deep breath. “Hiding in fear isn’t doing your family any favors. Until you know the truth, you can’t rebut whatever rumors your neighbors have concocted. It’s in your best interests―and Ethan’s―to discover the truth.”
“You’ve been here three days, and you think you know what’s best for us?” Nate’s voice was hard. “This is our life, Ben!”
Ben winced. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Nate. You can break this cycle of fear.”
Nate met his eyes in challenge. “Can you promise that what we find won’t have negative consequences for Ethan, that he’ll be able to stay on the farm?”
Ben was silent a moment. He knew only too well that fear and suspicion wasn’t limited to Nate’s neighbors. There were plenty of political interest groups―including Department Seven―who were not above using their supernatural constituents to make a point. “No. I can’t. But that doesn’t mean―”
Nate held a hand up to silence Ben. “Then you know why I can’t do anything.”
“This is a mistake, Nate.” Ben was shaking as he stood. His fingers were locked around the album, but it still felt like it might slip from his grasp.
“But it’s our mistake. Not yours.” Nate shook off the blanket, climbing to his feet to meet Ben. “I’m sorry, Ben. But you’ve got to see―”
“I see nothing.” Angry? Yes. “I don’t agree, and I’m not going to pretend I do.”
Nate stepped towards him. “I don’t want you to pretend anything, do anything you don’t want to―”
“But you’re not above manipulating people to get what you want.”
Nate recoiled as if Ben had physically struck him. “I would never― Ben.” He took a shaky breath. “I lo―”
Ben felt something surge through the surrounding shadows a looming hunger rising to meet them. He moved, instinctively, tossing the album aside as he launched himself at Nate. “Don’t say it!”
Nate was caught entirely by surprise. They hit the floorboards of the attic, colliding with the stacked boxes.
“Ow! What the hell, Ben!” Nate shook Ben off him as he sat up. “What was that about?” He glared as he cradled his arm. “What are you trying to do?”
“Did you feel that?” Ben scrambled to his feet. The threat was still there, lingering on his awareness, but it was fading fast. What had set it off?
“I feel my funny bone protesting. Seriously, there are better ways to win an argument!”
“There was something there.” Ben circled the loft, trying to put his finger on it. “Something―” Ben placed a foot on the makeshift mattress and paused. “Help me move this.”
“What are you on about?” Nate gingerly got to his feet. “Seriously, Ben. You’re acting like you’re possessed or something.”
Ben pressed his lips together. You’ve got no idea. He had an inkling of what they would find.
With Nate’s help, he drew the straw back in one movement. Stray pieces of hay littered the floor, but the circle beneath them was clearly recognizable even so. Spray painted onto the boards below the bed, it could only be one thing.
“Fuck me.” Nate’s breath was shaky. “This― Is this…?”
“A demonic circle.” Ben frowned. He’d never seen one before, but he’d known what each inscription would look like before they’d drawn back the straw. “I’m willing to bet it’s exactly the same as the one that killed Olivia Winkler.”
“Shit.” Nate drew a deep breath, running his hands over his face. “What’s it doing here?”
Ben looked down at the circle. “That’s a very good question.” His vision seemed to blur. For a second, the hay-streaked boards of the barn were replaced with dusty boards, a circle traced in blood―
The circle was obscured as Nate dragged the hay back over it.
Ben placed his foot down on the hay. “What are you doing? We can’t hide this, Nate!”
“We have to! If the police see this, they’re gonna think Ethan―”
Ben’s fury was white-hot, surprising himself. “So protecting your brother is more important than preventing the demon claiming another innocent victim?”
Nate didn’t budge. “He’s my brother.”
“This is a murder investigation, Nate!”
“Which Ethan is not a part of! The police see this, they’re not going to bother looking for the real agent. They’ve already decided Ethan’s it. They just want a solid reason to put him behind bars!”
“You can’t suppress evidence. Anything that will lead us to this demon needs to be out there.”
Nate placed his hand on Ben’s shoulder, looking directly into his eyes. “I promise you. Ethan doesn’t have anything to do with this. Please, Ben? Jail will― It’s the worst possible thing that could happen to him!”
I should know better. I do know better. Ben summoned all his anger, but faced with the entreaty in Nate’s eyes, found it slipping away before a wave of helplessness. Ben shut his eyes. “I can’t make that promise.”
“Ben―”
“I’m going back to New Camden.” Ben heard Nate’s gasp but knew better than to look at him. To waver now would be fatal. “I’ll take the next bus back.”
“But Ben.” Nate placed his hand on Ben’s arm. “I need you here. Everything―”
“And I need to be able to think for myself―without you influencing me.” Ben took a deep breath, looking squarely at Nate. “You can’t make my decisions for me. Not now―not ever. I have to go back.”