The Hunted

  “She was jumpy this morning. Did she completely freak last night?”

  For a moment, he concentrates on cleaning the rest of the gravel out of my grazes, and then he says, “Shocked, I think, is a better word; she wouldn’t shut up about the color of my eyes and how she knew something was different about me.”

  “Knew?” That word bothered me immensely. “Did she say how?”

  “She was suspicious of Eve’s disappearance—like everyone is—and was doing some research on us. She came across a website with detailed specifics listed, and then connected the dots.”

  “That’s some dangerous research.”

  “Sure is, honeybee.”

  An hour later, we are curled up in front of the TV, watching reruns of lame cop shows—as Seb likes to call them. He shovels popcorn into his mouth and guffaws as a policeman falls over. I’m delighted to see him relaxed. I can’t help but laugh with him. If he’s relaxed, then there’s no reason for me to be tense, right? I curl up beside him, and he drapes an arm over me. I miss this, chilling with a guy, feeling his body heat seep into me. I never admitted it to Eve or Miles, but on horrid, rainy nights like this, I did long for a boy to keep me company.

  Oh, Eve. Where are you? I miss her yammering.

  As if sensing my thoughts, Seb’s arm tightens around me.

  I wonder what she’d say if she could see me now. You really are nuts for wolves, Cassie. Yeah, maybe I am. But it’s a particular wolf that holds my heart.

  My wolf.

  He’s quiet for a minute, his breathing even as his hand brushes up my arm. His eyelids are heavy with sleep.

  Has he slept at all the last couple of days? Hunted? I switch off the TV. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “Mm.”

  I tug on his arm. He stands, and I guide him towards my room. Pushing him down on the edge of the bed, I help him get his shoes off. I untie the laces and slide one and then the other off.

  “Cass?” He rolls under the blankets, waving me over.

  I slide in next to him. “Yeah?”

  He pulls me closer and kisses me.

  “What were you going to say?”

  He kisses me again. His fingers brush under the hem of my shirt. I constrict my arms around him, heat and sparks arcing between us like we’re two conductors. My hands explore his back, feeling the ridges of his spine and ribs. His lips trail over my cheek and down my neck. I press myself to him, craving more of him. My fingers catch the hem of his shirt, pushing it higher. Fingers snap around my wrists.

  “Cass. Stop.”

  “Wh—why?” I try to catch my breath.

  “Not until this mess is settled.”

  I repress a groan. “It might never be over.”

  He’s silent. I untangle myself from him, feeling ashamed.

  “Hey.” He tucks my head under his chin. “It’s not that I don’t want to.”

  “I understand.” At least, I’m trying to. I resist the urge to add, but you started it. Instead, I listen to his heart thrum in his chest and wait for sleep to find me.

  So,” Dad says. “Have fun last night?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Mm.” He forks potato into his mouth. “Listen, I don’t want you seeing Seb.”

  Beans spill off my spoon as my mouth pops open. I knew he’d bring up the topic of my boyfriend sooner or later. I just wish it were later instead. “He’s not like the others. He’s good.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he says. “I don’t want my daughter around their kind.”

  “It’s a little too late,” I mumble.

  “They’re monsters.”

  “I am well aware of what they are!”

  “Don’t snap at me, young lady. I forbid you to see him.”

  I snort. As if that’s gonna work on me. He hasn’t disciplined me before, why now? “Well, I’m eighteen in three months.” I collect my plate. “You can’t tell me who to love then.” I throw the remainders of my dinner in the trash.

  “You do not speak to me in that way. What’s gotten into you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” My arms flap about. “Maybe it’s the fact that you’re hunting my boyfriend!”

  “That’s it!” He stands.

  “What? What can you possibly do?”

  He shakes a finger at me. “You’re grounded. Until you start behaving like my Cassie again.”

  “Wake up to yourself, Dad,” I spit. “I’m seventeen. I might not be the same little, fragile girl who lost her mother, but I am Cassie. You’re just never around to see it.” I stomp out of the room and up the stairs.

  “Come back here. Now.”

  “Not until you’re ready to listen.” The door slams behind me.

  Grounded? Is he serious?

  ***

  I scrub the sponge across the plate. It’s not as if I have anything better to do. I snort, rinse the dish, and shove it into the rack. I’d rather be anywhere else but here, grounded like an immature brat. Is that what Dad thinks of me? I thought I was pretty self-reliant. Never asked him for anything, been paying my own way since I was sixteen, and this is what I get in return? No Seb, no friends, no life? We’ve gone from cordial roommates to distant father and daughter in the space of a day. It’s not supposed to be like this. Mom’s heart would be breaking right now if she knew. Maybe she is watching over us and she’s trying to shake us back to reality.

  Or maybe she doesn’t even exist anymore. Who knows?

  I drop another plate in the sink and watch it splash, bubbles taking flight and descending towards the counter. What a load of crap this is. He’s barred me from using the phone; I’m not even allowed to call Miley. I switch on the radio, like Seb does, and try to find his favorite station. I miss him. It’s only been two days, but I crave his comforting hands and smile. I feel myself falling apart at the seams, my heart aching to know what happened to my Evie—desperate to find out before I fall apart completely. There’s no Seb to stitch me back up, to hold me until the sun comes up. There might as well be no Seb at all because I have no idea when I’ll see him again. If I’m allowed to see him again. But I can’t pretend he doesn’t exist because that hurts just as bad.

  The first night, he tried to sneak in. Then we discovered that Dad had nailed the window shut. Perhaps on Monday, Seb will be there when I get out of school, but with Marcus as my shadow, I don’t have a chance of getting even a moment alone.

  Someone thumps on the front door, ripping me from my musings. I peel off the rubber gloves and drag my feet down the hall to the door. Uncle Scott’s face appears in the little side window, anxious and flustered. His eyes are pleading with me not to open the door. He has bad news.

  Breathing in deep, I twist the lock and then the knob. I can handle the news, right? He’s framed in the darkness of night, but I can just make out all the lines on his face.

  He heaves a sigh. “Cass. May I come in?”

  I kick the door open further. “Is this about Eve?” Cut to the chase, I don’t want my insides gnawing away at me any longer.

  He folds himself onto the couch, where he’s silent for a moment, probably thinking how to word the update for his niece.

  I want to shake it out of him, not because I’m angry or resentful towards him in any way. But I’m nervous, anxious that they found her and she’s dead. Why else would he be looking so uneasy right now? I make myself sit in one of the overstuffed armchairs to wait out the silence.

  He clears his throat, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. “I’m afraid to say that I do have some terrible news.”

  I wait for him to continue. He doesn’t.

  “You found Eve?” I say, and then hold my breath.

  He shakes his head. “We found a girl about her age. But we’re unable to tell at this moment.” He pauses, twists his wedding ring. “Robyn would hate if I gave you any details…”

  “Give it to me,” I say. “I can handle it.” I’m sure I can.

  His eyes settle on mine. “Facial recognition isn’t
possible at this stage. The body is too,” he twists the ring again, “damaged. We’re waiting for DNA analysis.”

  My stomach churns. Those sick bastards—what have they done to her? “How long will that take?”

  “Anywhere from a week to two.”

  My hands ball at my sides. That’s too long to wait.

  “I’m trying to get it fast-tracked, Cass, I’m doing everything I possibly can.” He swipes his palm over his moist forehead. “The coroner’s working on determining race and other factors, to maybe give us more clues.”

  I nod for him to go on. He knows I’m inquisitive like my mother and would want to know more. And I know he can’t tell me, and that I’m pushing the boundaries as usual, but I want to know. Need to.

  He clears his throat again. “The cadaver was fairly messed up. The skin was shredded and peeled away—”

  The image of Ash in my bathroom sparks to life behind my eyes, him almost shredding my arm with his talon-like nails.

  “—most of the bones are broken and—”

  My stomach lurches. Robyn’s right; I can’t handle it. I sprint for the bathroom and manage to prop up the toilet seat in time for dinner to reappear.

  This has to be them. And it isn’t just a game. It’s personal. I stole their precious leader, so they murdered my best friend. She’s the warning.

  I’m next.

  My ears are roaring. The room is spinning—or is it the earth and I’m the axis?

  A hand brushes my shoulder. Another frees hair from my face. “Cassie, are you okay? Should I call your dad?”

  Tears crash down my cheeks as my hollow stomach spasms. “Seb,” I moan. I don’t care if Dad or his brother throttles me for saying his name. Seb brings the comfort, happiness I seek. “Seb.”

  My uncle’s face softens. He drops to his knees beside me. “I know why your dad grounded you. And I want you to know that I don’t think he’s being fair.” He hands me a wad of toilet paper.

  I wipe my mouth. “I don’t know who he wants me to be, who he thinks I am. Seb is…”

  “He’s not like the others—hasn’t been for a long time, I know.” He cups my hand in his. “I’m going to do everything I can to get your dad to see that.”

  “Why? You’re a Hunter; you’re supposed to kill these things.”

  “Because I, like Seb, am not like the others. I was born into this world, like him, with the sole purpose of killing. And as much as he doesn’t want to hurt us, I don’t want to kill him. It’s not right.”

  I slide my legs from under my butt and cross them in front of me. “So that makes you an ally?” I feel a smile blossom on my lips.

  He nods. “I suppose it does.”

  “How did you—?”

  Dad’s face appears around the doorway. His voice booms, ricocheting through the bathroom. “Go to your room, Cassandra.”

  Uncle Scott’s features flash with fear. I straighten, my eyes not leaving Dad’s until I’m out of the room. I scurry up the stairs but loiter on the landing.

  “How could you? My own brother,” Dad says.

  “You know this isn’t fair on her.”

  “I won’t have her frolicking with those—those things.”

  “You know very well, brother, that love is blind. She doesn’t see that boy as you do.”

  “Don’t you mean as we do?” Dad says.

  I hear someone sigh.

  “She’s had a tough day, Brett. We found a girl we think is the Murphey’s daughter.”

  Footsteps near, clomping into the hall—Dad. I scramble up the last flight of stairs and into my room. I press the door shut, careful not to make a sound.

  My breathing is heavy as I try to make sense of what I’d learned in the previous minutes. My fingers ache to hold Seb’s. I shove them under my arms. Don’t think about it.

  But how can I not?

  Uncle Scott’s words whisper in my ear. Anywhere from a week to two. I must find out soon if that girl is Eve.

  The week passes in a blur. I don’t remember much—school, homework, chores—all a distant, tainted memory. No results with the DNA analysis yet. Seb’s been calling, but Dad won’t let me speak to him.

  On an astonishingly sunny Monday, when the house is quiet and Dad is away, the phone rings.

  Do I dare pick it up?

  Seb

  I dial Cassie’s number, hoping that she’ll answer but expecting her father. I’m surprised when I hear her voice.

  “Hello?” she says, cautious.

  “Hey, honeybee.”

  “Seb! Oh, I miss you!”

  “I know,” I say. “Me, too. How’ve you been?”

  “It’s horrible, the waiting. Uncle Scott says they found a body—a girl the same age as Eve.” Her voice quivers on the last part.

  “And?”

  “We’re waiting for results of the DNA tests,” she says. “Apparently, your brothers did a number on this poor girl.”

  “Why do you assume it’s one of them?”

  “Remember what Ash did to me? Well, it was like that, but worse and all over.”

  My fist pounds the table. Cutlery and plates rattle.

  “What was that?” she says.

  “Earthquake.”

  “Oh? You’re on the next street; I didn’t feel anything.”

  “I’m joking, Cass. I hit the table.”

  “Why, was it being naughty?” She giggles.

  Though she won’t see it, I manage a smile. “So, how’re you holding up?”

  “Fine.” She blows a sigh. “Just fine.”

  “Uh-huh. I bet that fine is spelled c-r-a-p.”

  “It might be, especially if Dad doesn’t let me see you soon.”

  I almost suggest us running away together, away from Arizona, like we planned those many nights ago, but I think better of it. She’d say yes, and it would only get both of us into more trouble.

  She sniffles.

  I wish I were there, wiping away her tears, holding her tight, waiting for the news together. “Y’okay?”

  “No.”

  I gnaw on my lip as her sobs pour through the receiver. “Oh, Cass. What can I do? How can I help?” What use am I to her over the phone?

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll stay on the phone all night, if you want. I’ll do anything.”

  “Okay. It’s so lovely to hear your voice.”

  “I’ll find a way to see you again.” I hear a knock on the door.

  “Hang on,” she says, “I have to put you down, because if anyone sees me on the phone…”

  “I’ll wait.”

  There’s a tap and I imagine her setting the handset down on the coffee table, walking down the hall to the door. I can just make out a male voice. For the first time, I’m both happy and irritated to have a wolf’s hearing.

  “Cass, take a seat,” I hear him say. “I got the results back on the sample from the girl.”

  I hold my breath as I wait, torn between wanting and not wanting for it to be her.

  Cassie

  “Cass, take a seat,” Uncle Scott says. “I got the results back on the sample from the girl.”

  I do as he says, knowing my gut feeling is right. “Go on,” I say, vying for an even, relaxed tone.

  His mouth opens and closes several times before he speaks. And when he does, he takes on the formal tone of Sheriff Scott. “The girl—” He looks at me, probably imagining me on a cold, stainless-steel slab in autopsy. “—the body that was found last week is indeed Evelyn Anne Murphey.” His face crumples. “Cass, I’m sorry.”

  It takes seconds for the meaning of his words to hit me. Eve is dead. Eve was murdered. I thought I’d be a wreck. But I don’t feel a damn thing. I’m numb all over. Did she suffer? Feel pain? If she did, I wish I could take it away.

  I can hear Seb breathing hard through the phone.

  Scott strokes my shoulder. “If there’s anything I can do…”

  He must be able to hear Seb. My fingers itch
for the phone, for my boyfriend. I shake my head.

  “Anywhere you’d like me to drop you?”

  I look up at him. He raises his eyebrows, and then nods towards the handset. He’s making a big mistake, crossing a line my dad has stubbornly drawn. The repercussions for both of us could be fatal. But in this moment, I don’t care.

  I jump up. “Take me to the Adler’s?” I don’t know whether Dad’s aware Seb is staying there or not, but I’d rather fall apart with my boyfriend then alone.

  “Sure.”

  I grab the phone. “I’ll be over in a minute.”

  “What—but—you can’t!”

  I cut off Seb’s protests. “See you soon.” I tap the end call button, throwing my arms around my uncle.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I do.”

  “I’ll try to speak to your dad, get him to come ’round.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think that’s gonna happen any time soon.”

  “Okay, well c’mon. Let’s get Cinderella to her Prince Charming.”

  My heart swells. “Thank you.” I reach up to press my lips to his cheek. “For everything.” My mind swirls with thoughts of Eve and Seb as we drive the thirty-second route to the always-fragrant home of my extended family.

  Sarah opens the door. “Hi. Are you—?” Her eyes dart over my face. “Come in, dear.”

  She knows.

  Seb jogs from his room, irises scorching with rage and sorrow. He coils his arms around me, squeezing tight. I press my face into his chest, clinging to him like a starving person might cling to food. I could feel the walls crashing down as soon as he’d touched me.

  “Come,” he says, towing me into his room.

  My chest heaves. I’m fighting to keep my misery locked inside. But as soon as he closes his door, it bursts out. I try to catch my breath as images and thoughts whip through my brain—why her? Eve didn’t deserve this—but I can’t. I feel droplets of water drip off my chin as I sob and wail.

  Seb’s arms are locked around me, rocking me, crying with me. He hardly knew her, but we are a team—when I am in pain, he is also.

  “Sh-shh.” His fingers weave into my hair. “We’ll get through this. Believe it, Cass, we will.”

  I know he’s right, but at this very moment, it feels as if my world is ending. I just hope we can survive the apocalypse.

  After I’d pretty much cried myself out, Seb and I stay up watching his favorite lame cop shows—which are becoming my favorite as well—and munch on treats Sarah picked up for me on her usual afternoon stroll.