"What do you say we start looking for a building spot?" he said.
"Dad will want to pick one."
"Right. And do you really think if you say 'I want my home here,' he'll ignore you? Face it, Maya--you're spoiled."
I smiled.
"So come on," he said, backing up. "Lets go find the perfect spot."
"We aren't supposed to go out of shouting distance."
"So if we did, that would be wrong. Irresponsible. Immature."
"It would."
"Well, I think we've earned it." He started backing up. "Race you?"
"To where?"
His smile broke into a grin, blue eyes glittering in the twilight. "Anywhere."
He turned and ran. I laughed and ran after him.
EPILOGUE
Eight Months Later
WHEN ASH ENTERED THE kitchen, I noticed. He didn't make a sound as he crept in. Maybe I caught his scent, but I still wasn't good at distinguishing that. I just knew he was there. And I knew why he was there. I continued cutting sandwiches until his hand slipped around me, heading for the pile. A flash of the knife and the hand vanished in a volley of curses.
"Watch the language," I said. "You know house rules. That particular word is not permitted, on pain of laundry duty."
"It's the pain of having my hand sliced open that I'm worried about."
He eased around the island, still eyeing the sandwich pile. I waved the knife at him.
"Wait two minutes and you can make your own. I'll even leave everything out . . . for you to put away."
"I want half a sandwich. We've got a million kids coming to the party. No one's going to notice one half missing."
"Still working on your math, huh? It's twelve kids, plus Annie."
"Feels like a million," he grumbled as he settled onto a stool.
"Then don't come." I handed him one of the sandwich halves. It was slightly mangled, from a poor cutting job.
"How would that look? Me skipping Daniel's birthday? It's an insult."
"He'd understand."
Ash only grumbled some more. He wasn't big on crowds--and to him, a dozen was a crowd--but he'd go, for Daniel's sake. When he reached for another half sandwich, I threatened him with the knife again.
"No one's going to miss--"
"They aren't for the party. Daniel and I are releasing the rabbits later, and I'm bringing food."
"So it's a picnic?"
"Right," I said, packing the sandwiches into the box.
"Just the two of you?"
I gave him a look. "We're releasing the rabbits."
"With a picnic. For two." He leaned over and lowered his voice. "I've got a couple of beers in my room if you want--"
Dad walked in. Ash sat up fast and took another bite of the sandwich.
"What's up?" Dad said, looking from me to my brother.
"Ash has beer in his room. He was offering me some."
Ash's eyes narrowed.
"What kind?" Dad said as he opened the fridge and took out a pop can. "If it's Labatt's, I'll buy one off you. I'm all out and I'm not going to town until Tuesday."
Ash mumbled under his breath. He hadn't quite figured my parents out yet. If they didn't complain about the beer, he thought they were just accommodating him, treading carefully until they were comfortable enough laying down stricter rules. Which was true, in a way, but only that, when the time came, Dad would insist that if Ash wanted beer in the house, he had to keep it in the fridge, not hide it in his room. And if they caught him with anything stronger before he was nineteen, there would be trouble.
I started cutting up brownies. When Dad reached for one, Ash said, "Watch it. She's quick with that knife. Those are for her picnic with Daniel."
"Daniel?" Dad said.
I put the brownies into the box. "About five-ten? Blond? I think you've met him."
Dad and Ash exchanged a look.
"Been spending a lot of time with Daniel lately," Dad said.
"I've been spending a lot of time with Daniel since I was five. Stop. Now."
"I'm just saying. You know how I feel. Daniel--"
I brandished the knife. "If you say he takes care of me again, I'm going to have the Nasts open a time portal and send you back to the nineteenth century, where I'm sure you'll be much happier."
"What's wrong with saying he takes care of you?" Ash said. "Are we supposed to want you dating a guy who doesn't?"
"Not answering that," I said as I headed for the stairs. "I need to get ready. Ash? Touch the food and I won't take you for a driving lesson tomorrow. Dad? Touch it and I'll make you take him for a driving lesson tomorrow."
Dad backed away from the counter. Ash scowled. I laughed and continued upstairs.
Ash, Kenjii, and I walked into our "town." Badger Lake was the name of it, imaginatively named after, well, the lake in the middle, which was really more the size of a large pond, but no one was getting technical.
It was a Saturday, but construction crews were hard at work, as they had been since the frost broke. Everyone who'd come to Badger Lake with us had a house now, and several of the community buildings were done. More houses were going up, for families who'd moved into trailers or were coming soon--town support personnel, mainly. They were Cabal families, those with special skills that the Nasts deemed worth the security risk.
While most of them performed regular town duties--nurses, teachers, security, even a shopkeeper--they all had special skills, too. Skills that would help us grow into . . . well, I'm not sure. Deadly assassins? Super spies? Crack mercenaries? Or just really good, multi-talented Cabal employees. They weren't saying, of course, but from the type of instructors we were getting, it seemed to be leaning toward the first three. We had three experts in fighting skills alone. I was starting fencing lessons Monday, a skill they deemed suitable for a cat's fast reflexes. Somehow I doubted they were training me for the Olympic team.
Did we balk at any of that? No. If they wanted to make us super soldiers, we were happy to take their training. And, someday, use it to get free.
A couple of the new houses were for new kids. One was a Project Genesis subject they'd tracked down, with her mother. Rachelle Rodgers was a fire half-demon that Chloe and the others had known. The other house was for someone from Salmon Creek who seemed to be showing signs of powers. They weren't telling us who it was yet, in case they were wrong. They were in talks to bring in Chloe's father, too. Her aunt had been in contact with him, mostly to stop him from looking for her. Now that we were with the Cabals, there was no need to worry about that, so Chloe had seen him for the first time in six months and they were talking about bringing him to Badger Creek.
Ash, Kenjii, and I walked along the main street, dirt now, though they'd already paved the road into the town. Daniel and Corey lived on the edge of the lake nearest that paved road, next to the main community building, where Chief Carling had her office.
As we walked, someone hailed us. It was Antone. He came around his house, hammer in hand, Moreno trailing behind, beer in hand.
"Ah, Daniel's party," Antone said, waving at the picnic basket and wrapped gift. "Say happy birthday to him for me." He shifted the hammer to his other hand. "So, we're still on for Sunday dinner?"
He looked anxious, as if he expected us to back out. We'd been doing Sunday dinner every other week for six months now, but I think he kept expecting us to make excuses. We didn't. It wasn't an easy relationship. Maybe it never would be. But Ash and I understood how important this was to him, and even if we'd never be a family in the way he'd dreamed of, we'd be something.
I assured him we were coming.
"If it's still warm, we'll eat on my new back deck," he said. "Which I hope to have done . . . if someone exchanges his beer for a hammer."
"Hey, I have two hands," Moreno said. "So, kiddies, are we still on for our dysfunctional family moment? Lessons at the range next week?"
"Wednesday after school," I said. "We'll be there."
"What?" Antone looked a
t Moreno sharply. "Guns? You are not teaching them--"
"They asked. Well, Ash did, and God forbid Miss Maya should miss out on anything."
"I just want to be ready in case you ever pull a gun on me again," I said as we resumed walking, leaving them to argue it out.
Climbing a cliff side. After a birthday party. Zooming up alongside Rafe as our friends cheered us on. It all felt very familiar. How much changes . . . and how little changes.
When we mentioned we wanted to rebuild our climbing wall, Antone said they'd get a construction team on it right away, recreating exactly the one we had in Salmon Creek. Which was more than a little creepy, really. So we insisted on doing it ourselves. I'd noticed footprints in the soft earth between our building sessions, telling me they were coming out to check our work and make sure it was safe, but they said nothing, just left us to it. Which was, so far, Sean's approach to us in general. He'd supply whatever we needed and he'd happily do things for us, but he seemed even more pleased if we did them ourselves. They wanted independent-minded, self-directed, capable young adults. And that's what we planned to be.
So now I was throwing a seventeenth birthday party for Daniel, just like he'd thrown my sixteenth one for me. And we were in another forest, climbing another wall. Rafe was beside me, for the final race, and as we climbed, it was just like the first time, me looking over, seeing his grin, feeling him there, swearing I could hear the pounding of his heart, spurring me on.
The same. Yet not the same.
Something had changed between us in the last eight months. I'm not sure when it started. There seemed to be no start. Just a gradual . . . change. I looked over and I saw him and his grin made my heart beat faster, but it was a different kind of beating. It was adrenaline and excitement and happiness. Nothing more. Maybe that's all it had ever been. Maybe I'd misinterpreted. Sometimes I wonder if Sam was actually right, and what Rafe and I felt--that crazy whirlwind of emotion--really had been just animal attraction. Like calling to like. The thrill of meeting another skin-walker, hormones twisting it into something else, something my brain mistook for love.
Or maybe it had been something, and with nothing to feed the flames, they just cooled and, eventually, extinguished altogether. We'd decided to back off and be friends, and there'd been a time, in the first few months, when I'd be with him and I'd want more, and I could tell he wanted more. But then those times came more rarely, until I could look at him now and see a friend. Just a friend. And I could tell he felt the same when he looked at me.
How did I feel about that? A little sad, I think. Part of me mourned what we'd had. It had been so new and so raw and so thrilling. And then, when it faded, it left me feeling . . . a little frightened, I guess. How can something that strong disappear so easily? No, not disappear. Mellow. Morph. Change into something good and real, but still, not the same, never again the same. I'm happy with what we have, but I do grieve a little, for what we had.
"Maya! Come on! He's gaining on you!"
I looked up and the sun hit me square in the eye, setting me blinking. Then a head moved in front of it. My spotter. The guy making sure I didn't fall. The guy who would always make sure I didn't fall.
Daniel grinned and it was like that sunlight hit me again, and I faltered.
"Hey! No! Keep going! You've gotta show him who's still top cat around here."
Rafe yelled something up. I didn't quite catch it, just kept staring at Daniel's grin, feeling tiny firecrackers igniting in my gut.
This had changed, too. My feelings for Daniel. Or not so much changed, as slid from the darkness and into the light.
I loved Daniel, and it wasn't a BFF kind of love or a brotherly kind of love. It was real and it was wonderful and it was absolutely terrifying, because the more I accepted it, the more I started to wonder what he really felt for me. Was it anything even approaching my feelings? I had no idea.
When I looked up at Daniel, I didn't feel what I'd felt for Rafe. It wasn't that consuming, blind, must-be-with-him-now need. It was a different need, more grounded, just as intense, stronger even, in its way. I wanted to get to him. Just get up there, feel his arms around me, inhale his scent, hear his laughter, and be with him. I wanted to grab my picnic basket, say good-bye to all our lovely-but-temporarily-inconvenient friends, and take Daniel for myself, someplace quiet, where we could be alone and . . .
And . . . Well, that was the obstacle I hadn't quite overcome yet. While I was happy to just be with him and talk to him and goof around with him, I could think of more I'd like to do. Enough to make me very glad no one could tell I was blushing. I settled for averting my eyes and focusing on the climb.
"Almost there!" Daniel called. "Pick it up a little! You can do it. You already beat Ash."
"My hand slipped," Ash muttered from somewhere above.
I looked up at Daniel again, caught his grin, and felt an extra jolt of adrenaline zip through me. Get to him. Just focus on that. Getting to him. Two more handholds. One more. Now reach--
"We have a winner!" Daniel shouted, and pulled me up for my victory hug.
We had our little party after that. I'd had pizza delivered by one of Moreno's security guys. They're very useful for that sort of thing. The Nasts aren't keen on announcing our presence to the outside world, so we can't order anything in, and the nearest village of any size is a thirty-minute drive down crappy roads, meaning our parents aren't eager to just "run into town" for us. That's what the security guys are for, apparently. It's not like we require much actual security.
We're more isolated than we were in Salmon Creek, but we're dealing with it. Monthly helicopter trips into Toronto help. They give us the Friday off so we can make a three-day weekend of it. They aren't yet letting us go without our parents--and Moreno's men--but we're working on that.
So we had our pizza-and-beer party. Derek and Chloe slipped out as soon as he got his pizza, Chloe saying they'd be back for the cake and gifts. Like Ash, Derek wasn't good with crowds. Or parties. Simon had no such reservations. He'd made himself a part of our group from the start. I had wondered if that would bother Derek, but it didn't seem to. He was happy to relinquish his brother to us and hang out with him other times.
Tori wasn't exactly a core part of our group. Neither was Hayley. They'd become fast friends, and tended to keep to themselves, though they'd join us for group events like this. I'd found a friend in the Genesis group, too. Or we were working in that direction. Chloe was still quiet, a little unsure of herself, most comfortable with Derek and her "tribe," but we hung out together more and more, which was nice. She didn't quite take Serena's place but was filling that void.
Of the Phoenix kids, the one Derek got along best with was Daniel. In him, Daniel had found a good sparring partner. And a plotting partner, too. Derek wasn't just the biggest and strongest in our group. He was also the smartest. Scary, off-the-charts smart. That intimidated Daniel a little at first--he's bright, but he needs to work for his grades. But Derek wasn't a show-off or a know-it-all, so they got past that and we would hang out together, the two guys, Chloe, and I planning and plotting our future, bouncing ideas off one another.
As for romance among the others, there was little of that so far. Corey and Hayley had taken another run at it, but I think Corey just felt bad about how he'd treated her before and when they tried again, they realized it wasn't really a good match. Ash and Tori snarled and snapped at each other enough that I thought there might be something there . . . if they didn't kill each other first. And Sam? Well, there was no one for Sam, which was one of the problems with our isolation. Even for the heterosexual kids, you couldn't expect everyone to just pair up out of necessity. A bigger dating pool was needed. I'd told Sean that. He understood and was working on ways to get us involved with our larger community, maybe lessons of some sort in a nearby city.
So life in Badger Lake wasn't perfect. But as much as we might hate to admit it, it was good. Really good. It wasn't a forever kind of life, but when I chafed at
the boundaries, I had only to look at the kids who'd grown up on the run--Ash, Derek, Simon, Rafe, Annie, and Sam--and see them relaxing and flourishing, and I'd know we'd made the right choice.
"Okay," Daniel said as we picked our way along the boggy path. "You stay right there while I find a place to release these guys. And no peeking. I don't want you knowing where I'm hiding potential snacks for cougar-time."
"Ha, ha," I said as I hopped over a wet patch. "I keep myself well fed before I shift. Fixing animals up only to hunt them down would be kind of pointless."
"Or diabolically clever. They'd smell you, think food was coming, run over to greet you, and . . . chomp."
I made a face at him. "It's Ash we need to worry about. Ever since he started shifting, I've noticed him gazing longingly at the animal shed. I've told Dad we need pick-proof locks."
Daniel laughed and waved me off the path. We'd left Kenjii behind. Fitz was out here, somewhere, but he knew to keep away when I had prey animals or he'd find himself locked in the shed. We continued to a drier spot, over by the cliff. I found a deadfall and we opened the box. The rabbits--orphaned by a mama-bunny-killing hawk--made their way out. They sniffed around, then zoomed off, some making a break for freedom, some zipping under the deadfall to safety.
"You're welcome!" I called after them, then muttered, "Ingrates."
Daniel laughed. "Good prep for having kids, I bet." He glanced over. "Back to the subject of snacks, did I hear that there's food in that basket?"
"Yes. For those of us who didn't eat five slices of pizza and two pieces of cake."
"I'm in training."
"You're always in training."
"That's why I'm always eating."
We kept talking as we continued on a little, closer to the cliff, looking until we found just the right picnic spot. Then I set out the blanket and we ate. We talked more, mostly about issues we were working on with our powers. Dr. Fellows--Lauren--had been monitoring me over the winter and concluded, after consultation with others doctors, that my "rage attacks" were indeed a form of regression. She'd been treating me, like they'd treated Annie, but I'd asked for fewer drugs and more training to learn to control it. That seemed to be working.
Daniel was dealing with some anger-management side effects of his own. In his case, it wasn't misplaced rage, but a disproportional reaction to a threat. Like a bull seeing red. Sam was experiencing the same side effect, and probably had been for longer. Daniel was dealing with his in the same way I was--some drugs, lots of training, and talk, the two of us hashing it out, what caused it, how we dealt with it. Mutual support and kicks-in-the-ass when needed.