The Fox Inheritance

  "That's not what I saw in your eyes, Locke. I saw you covering."

  My hands drop from her arms, and I step away, shaking my head. I'm tired of everyone second-guessing me. I lean against the counter, staring down at the stacks of dirty dishes. "I didn't think it would be such a big deal. That's all I was trying to avoid." I turn back to face her. "She's weak and injured, Jenna. It didn't seem important to correct her right at that moment. That's all. Who cares who hit him?"

  She stares at me like she is weighing what I said--or maybe reading something new into it. "Maybe you're right. I suppose it doesn't matter." But then, just as she turns to grab the sponge from the counter, I notice her face. A fragment. A glance. A sliver. Only one of the thousand angles of her face. But it's enough. For a split second, there is something else woven into her face besides worry about my lie. It sinks into my stomach, her micro expression I can't name, but I know shouldn't be there. She averts her eyes so I can't look again and hurries to wash another dish. Too late, Jenna.

  "And now it's your turn to hide something."

  She shakes her head.

  "Jenna."

  "Her wounds are only superficial, Locke."

  "So? That's good, isn't it? She'll recover quickly, right?"

  "Yes," she whispers. "Probably by morning."

  "But?"

  "The gashes on her legs didn't come from dogs."

  I don't like the doubt in her voice. "How can you know? A gash is a gash--"

  "I know. I've sewn up enough Runners. Her wounds were too clean."

  "So she got them some other way. She's confused. After all she's been through, that's possible, isn't it?"

  She pauses before she answers. A very long pause. "Yes. It's possible."

  I don't dig deeper. I don't want to know what she's thinking. I don't want her to know what I'm thinking. How did Kara get any of those wounds--from the gashes on her legs to the blisters on her feet--in one day? Is it possible that I only imagined her coming to me last night? Was it like all the times I imagined Jenna coming to me when I was stuffed in that six-inch cube?

  I grab a towel to dry the dishes, feeling like I'm doing something as old and ancient as what my sister and I used to do. I listen to the clinks, the slosh, the clatter, the sounds of an ordinary familiar kitchen, and I try to focus only on that. But then a plate slips from my hands, glass shattering across the kitchen floor, and just as quickly my thoughts slip from one shattered moment to another.

  Chapter 66

  I had told Kara about the party first. She was excited about the idea of crashing a party in a different part of town. Then we went to Jenna's house to tell her. I knew Jenna had a new car sitting in her garage just waiting for her parents to hand over the keys.

  "But the party's out past Quincy," I said. "The only way we can get there is if you drive."

  Her response was immediate. I knew what it would be. Even Jenna had her limits on the kinds of rules she would break. I think that's why I told Kara first, so the two of us could work on her. "No. I can't drive, Locke," Jenna said, like the matter was settled.

  I remember rolling my eyes, thinking it would shame her into changing her mind. "You're the only one with a car, Jenna. Besides, your parents are gone for the night. They'll never know."

  "If you don't drive, then we don't go," Kara said. "We need you!"

  "I'm not driving without a license. Besides, my voice commands aren't even programmed into the car yet. I couldn't start it anyway."

  "Kara could drive," I said. I was feeling like I was in charge for once, like I wasn't the loser my brother said I was, and it was a good feeling. I didn't let up. "And starting it isn't a problem. There's an override. You must have a code or keys around here somewhere."

  Jenna hesitated, but I never took my eyes off her and it finally paid off. She opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out some keys.

  "Yes!" I said, and I grabbed the keys from her hand and threw them to Kara. I don't even know if Kara wanted to drive, but she had no choice now. It was all in motion.

  We didn't know anyone at the party. It was an older crowd, and I knew within two minutes I had made the wrong choice. This was not a party that would impress Kara and Jenna. We were just about to leave when a fight broke out. That's when we ran to the car. I jumped into the back seat, and Kara and Jenna were in the front, fumbling with the keys. I yelled at Kara to hurry. People were pouring out of the house. She revved the engine, and we squealed down the street. We were scared, but once we made it to the highway, we started laughing, nervous, relieved laughter.

  It was only seconds later that we came to a curve, still going too fast. I heard the screech of brakes, but the car was already fishtailing on the shoulder. Jenna and I both yelled at Kara to stop, but there was no stopping. Kara was screaming and crying. And then we were falling, tumbling, and glass was everywhere. I felt my body crashing through a window, glass slicing through my arms, felt the crush of metal on my chest, felt the crunch of my limbs hitting the ground, and then almost instantly, the roar of metal and screams stopped, and I heard the whisper-quiet crackle of flames. I remember turning my head to the side. For a few seconds, I could see them both. Jenna's clothes--or maybe it was her skin--were smoldering. Kara had nearly no face at all. It was slashed and so full of blood I wasn't even sure it was her. Then the world went black, but I could still hear their moans and the gurgling sounds of breath and blood strangled in their throats, and those were the sounds that filled my dark world for 260 years.

  Chapter 67

  I lie awake but force my eyes shut. The others are all asleep, and I need to sleep too, but instead I listen to the sounds of the night. A creak. A sigh. An old wooden house is never silent. It moans like it's alive.

  Locke. I told you. Soon.

  I lean up on one elbow. I stare into the dark corners of my room, but there's nothing there. Can I trust anything in my own head?

  A creak.

  Creak.

  Creak.

  Like footsteps. I throw back my sheet and sit on the edge of my bed. She'll sleep through till morning. But is she already awake? I walk to my door and ease it open slowly so it makes no noise, then step into the dark hallway, looking in both directions. Where is she? Could she be going to Jenna's room?

  The knife. Is it still in my pack? Or did she creep into my room and get it? I stand and take a cautious step, and then another, and move quickly to Kara's room, forgetting caution altogether. The door is ajar. I push it open and stare at her bed. She is there. Her eyes shut. Her hair tousled across the pillow. Her chest rising in soft breaths. A thin beam of light from the window falling across her neck, her pulsing throat as delicate as a bird's.

  Sleeping like a peaceful child.

  Chapter 68

  "You're up early."

  "So are you," Jenna whispers. She's curled up on a wicker couch on the porch with a steaming mug of coffee cupped in her hands.

  I sit down next to her. "I wanted to be up when Kara woke."

  "Me too."

  "Any sign of her yet?"

  She shakes her head. "Probably not for a few more hours." She stares out at the pond, white mist clinging to its surface. The worry of last night still hasn't left her face.

  "She is going to be all right, isn't she?"

  "I told you, her wounds are only superficial."

  I work to keep my voice low so I won't wake the others, but it is annoying, the way she keeps phrasing it. "Why do you keep saying only, like that's something bad?"

  She breaks her stare from the pond and looks at me. "I'm sorry. I just thought you should know."

  She looks back at the pond and sips her coffee, her eyes squinting, staring out like she is watching something, but there are only patches of dissolving fog skimming the surface. Is she nervous? She and Kara haven't had a real chance to talk yet. There's a lot that still needs to be said. Will Jenna be able to explain to Kara, the way she did to me? Will Kara even listen?

  "There's coffee on the counte
r," she says without looking at me.

  She knows I don't drink coffee. I told her on my first day here. "Nervous?"

  She turns. The rims of her eyes are red. "She was my friend, Locke." She looks back out, staring at the pond that's as still as glass. "There are all kinds of friends you make in life. Allys is very dear to me, more like family. But there's something different about someone who spreads their wings with you. That's what we did, didn't we?"

  She looks at me like my answer carries all the weight of the world.

  "Yes, we did," I say. What's wrong with her? The hollowness in my stomach rises to my chest.

  "Even if it turns out badly, those kinds of friends never leave your heart. Never."

  "That's right," I answer. It's the first time I've seen her like this, almost like she's paralyzed. She's been so strong since I've been here--stronger than me--but now she looks so weak. I reach across and squeeze her hand.

  She turns to look at me with a faint hesitant smile. "You don't like coffee. I know. I was distracted."

  I lean forward to stand. "Maybe I should have some coffee--"

  "I didn't know how else to say it. That's why I said only superficial, Locke."

  I sit back down.

  "All of her scratches, gashes--everything--they were within reach of her own hand. And the angle--"

  "Are you trying to say--"

  "They were self-inflicted."

  I jump up and face her. "That's crazy. It has to be a coincidence. She--"

  "Locke, that isn't what has me worried. There's more." She sets her mug aside and reaches out for my hand, trying to pull me down next to her, but I resist. "It was her eyes, Locke. I've seen eyes like that before."

  Eyes? What is she talking about? I grab her arm and pull her off the couch and down the porch steps away from the house.

  "Locke! Stop! What are--"

  But I don't stop, not until we are both breathless and at the edge of the pond.

  "Now. Say it here. Where no one can hear. Get it out and then let's forget it."

  "I can't forget, Locke. I've seen that look in a face before. I've seen so many over the years. The first one was a boy named Dane. I was warned that he was missing something. He was. I still don't know what the it is, but it's the difference between emptiness and connection. And it's a dangerous thing not to have. Dane was eventually institutionalized after killing three people--"

  "One psycho guy and you're lumping Kara with him?"

  "I told you, there've been others. I saw Kara look at you. There was nothing in her face I could read. Her eyes were empty."

  I shake my head. This is crazy. A look in the eyes?

  "She was there for me, Jenna. For two hundred and sixty years, when the rest of the world abandoned me, she was there. I wouldn't call that empty!"

  "How? Exactly how was she there for you, Locke?"

  I look down at my feet. Something. I shift from one foot to the other. My eyes sting, and I turn around so I'm looking out at the pond. Something about her isn't right, Locke. Miesha said it long before Jenna did. I felt it myself. From the beginning, I knew she had changed. Sometimes I'm even afraid of her, but I always thought if I loved her enough I could make up for everything I had done, everything the world had done to us. But she's still not the same Kara. At least not yet, but even that doesn't mean she's empty, whatever that's supposed to mean. She was there for me. Always there. That's something. I owe her so much. Kara has to be all right, because if she isn't, maybe I'm not either.

  "She made me know that I still existed," I whisper. I swallow away the stab in my throat. "It's only eyes, Jenna. They aren't even hers. Gatsbro made them for her. He made mine. How can you judge someone by something made in a lab?" I turn around to look at her. "She's been through hell, Jenna. So have I. Do my eyes frighten you?"

  She shakes her head.

  "Isn't it possible that you're wrong? You only saw her awake for an hour at the most."

  "Of course. I want to be wrong but--"

  "Her eyes were manufactured by a madman, Jenna. He didn't care about us. I have green flecks now. Look at you--you're two inches shorter. But our minds, those are still ours, aren't they?"

  She nods. The rims of her eyes fill with tears.

  "Give her a chance. I watched the two of you when you first saw each other. Wasn't that real?"

  She swipes the hair from her forehead. "Yes. I think so. I'm not sure anymore. I needed to see her so badly. It was all such a rush--"

  "That's exactly what it was. A rush." I reach out and hold her hand. "Let's give it some time before--"

  "Hey."

  Jenna and I both jump and spin toward the voice. My eyes freeze on the porch.

  "Can an old friend join you two?"

  Chapter 69

  Kara walks down the porch steps. She wears Jenna's clothes. She spins to model them. "The pants are way short, but the shirt fits great. Looks like you and I are still almost the same size. But really, Jenna, you need to jazz up your style." She is smiling like I have not seen her smile in the last year.

  "Kara." Jenna hurries to greet her, and they hug for another eternity.

  When they let go, I ask, "Are you feeling okay?" making sure Kara has firm eye contact with me. She only smiles, like that is all I am trying to ask her. Like we haven't had a deeper connection. Kara. But I get nothing back from her.

  "I'm feeling great. Crazy, huh? But you know me--a good night's sleep works wonders--and whatever Jenna put on my feet worked like magic. No more blisters." Classic Kara. Flip breeziness. I used to love that about her way back then, but now it makes me uneasy. She grabs our hands and squeezes them. "Can you believe this? The three of us together again. At last."

  I stare at her, trying to make sense of the grin still plastered on her face. "Yeah. Amazing."

  I watch Jenna's hesitant smile. "Kara, there's so much we need to talk about--"

  "I know, Jenna. I hope we haven't put you at risk by coming here. We just didn't know where else to go."

  "No, of course not. I'm glad you came. That's not what I was talking about. I mean the past. Everything that's happened. I had no idea that--"

  Kara lifts her hands like she's trying to halt the conversation. "Please. Can't it wait? I know we need to talk but--" She looks up at the sky, her eyes wide open and glistening. She nods like she is gathering strength and then looks back at us. "Yes, there's a lot to talk about. We've all been through so much. But after all these years ... I think I just need some time. Rehashing the past is all I've done for eons. I don't want to ruin our very first hours together with more of that. For a few hours, anyway, can't we just..." She shrugs. "Actually live? Like old times? Is that too much to ask?"

  "But--"

  "No buts." She blinks away tears. "Look how life took such an unexpected turn for all of us. Who knows when it could happen again? I know there are things we need to discuss--like that nutjob Gatsbro--but I desperately need a breather, even if it's just a short one. Please. Let's go have breakfast. Go for a swim in this pond. Anything." She looks down at her ankles and too-short pants. "Shopping. That's something we used to love to do together. Let's go shopping."

  Jenna looks at me like I might know what's going on, but I am more mystified than she is. She looks back at Kara. "I can have Allys pick some things up for you. The shopping colonnade requires approved ID."

  "Oh." Kara's smile fades and she sighs. "Sure."

  Jenna glances at me again briefly and then grabs Kara's hand. "But there's the open-air bazaar where you don't need ID. It's a place the Non-pacts can shop too. They don't have the variety that--"

  "Perfect," Kara says. "This is exactly what--"

  "Wait a minute," I say, stepping forward and pushing them apart. "You can't be serious. Shopping? Have you both lost your minds?"

  Kara puts her hands on her hips. "You're right, Locke. On our very first day together, let's sit around here and be all mopey and serious. Oh, wait, been there, done that for the last year. Or we coul
d do something really outrageous and try to act like normal people for an hour or two. What a silly concept."

  "But there's still the small matter of the nutjob you mentioned. I think it would be smarter to lie low."

  Kara rolls her eyes. "Right. Gatsbro is sure to be out shopping for pants at an obscure little bazaar when he's hell-bent on finding us."

  "And Miesha and Dot did say he was in Mexico," Jenna adds.

  And it's settled. Just like that. We are going shopping. All of us. When Miesha and Dot hear of the excursion, they want to go too. Jenna mystifies me as much as Kara does, the way she went along with it so easily. I almost think she's glad to get Kara away from the house, like maybe that will be a safer place to be. Maybe she's right. Or maybe it was just the guilt and not being able to deny Kara such a simple request.

  I watch Kara closely as we get breakfast ready, and I see what Jenna sees--an unreadable face. Yes, there are smiles, questions, surprise, and reactions, but nothing that goes deeper than the surface of her skin. I used to be able to read the anger and disaster that lurked there. Now I only see the superficial movements of cheek and bone, lips and brow, carefully orchestrated, carefully moving on cue.

  In the middle of the busyness and chatter, Kayla toddles into the kitchen still in her pajamas, clutching a small pink bear.

  "And who do we have here?" Kara asks, kneeling down to Kayla's level.

  You know exactly who it is. You've been watching the house for a week. But I get no response from Kara, not even a flinch.

  Jenna walks over from the counter and stands behind Kayla, placing her hands on her shoulders. "Kara, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Kayla. Say hello, angel."

  "Hello."

  "Your daughter?" Kara's surprise seems genuine. Is it possible that as she watched from a distance, she mistook Kayla for Allys's child? Her lashes flutter briefly, but then the perfect control is back. "You've been busy, Jenna," she says. I listen for sarcasm, but her voice is only thick with admiration. I wait for the explosion, but there is none. I push. Yeah, she was busy living a life while we were crammed in a hellhole. Nothing.