I laugh at the new deadbolt as I unlock the door and prop it open with a rock. Deadbolt, Cal? Really? That’s all you got?
I would give almost anything to see Cal’s face when he realizes I was inside this whole time.
It takes five trips to haul everything to my wheelbarrow, and when I’m done, I’m sucking humid Texas air like it’s the sugar inside pixie straws.
Right before I leave, a mental image of the cat, his ribs sticking out, flashes across my mind.
No. I will not go back for the cat. I will not . . .
Whispers: Interactive StoriesMake your own choices and decide what happens next!
I go back for the damned cat. The poor guy practically throws himself into my arms, yowling so loud my aunts can probably hear it back at the farmhouse. His legs clasp around my neck, his claws digging into my flesh.
“Shh,” I whisper-scold. “Chatty Cat, if you’re coming with me, you have to be quiet.”
Thank God he stops making his crazy noises, and I grab a twenty-pack of canned tuna before we head outside.
Chatty Cat is practically glommed onto my face. With a little effort, and a lot of cursing, I peel him off. The cat and the tuna go in the wheelbarrow. He settles on top of the packages of ramen, curls up, and immediately begins to purr.
I pick my compound bow up and toss it onto the pile. Pretty sure Cal’s arsenal of guns trumps my one bow, but the weapon’s not for humans.
This close to the Shimmer—the magical veil that separates our world from the Fae’s—everyone needs to be armed. The things that seep from the other side are inhuman, and it’s not just the Fae.
When their magical war made everything go kablooey, the same magic transformed the nearest people into monsters we call darklings.
The Shimmer isn’t just for keeping us out of their lands; it’s for keeping the darklings out.
But sometimes they find their way into the borderlands anyway. And lately, the killings have increased. My heart spikes as I recall how, for the last week, tracks from something inhuman have appeared outside my house. The paw prints definitely canine but too large to be normal wolves.
Pushing the thought from my mind, I snatch a lollipop from the wheelbarrow and pocket five more, savoring the sour-apple flavor that explodes on my tongue. After nearly a day of nothing to eat, my body jerks as the sugar enters my bloodstream.
An owl hoots from the roof, reminding me I need to hurry. The creature perches right above us, his amber eyes seeming to glow, his orchid-white feathers bright against the dark sky. For reasons I can’t really explain, the owl shows up nearly everywhere.
And his presence has gotten even more persistent in the last week too.
“Wouldn’t be a party without you,” I mutter before refocusing on the task.
I glance over my bow, the string close to snapping. A gun would be better, but ammo’s expensive. Especially iron-coated bullets, which are the only type that can put a Fae or darkling down.
In the Tainted Zone, iron is worth more than gold.
Chatty Cat suddenly begins to growl. At the same time, the white owl takes to the sky, his shadow flickering over the lawn and drawing my attention to movement behind me.
My heart slams into my throat as I whip around to see a light coming from my right, the bright orb bouncing over the lawn.
Flashlight.
Which means someone is attached to that flashlight.
2
Hell fire. I grab the splintery ends of the wheelbarrow handles and shove it across the lumpy grass, my boots digging into the soil for traction.
Heavy. It’s too heavy!
I aim for the woods twenty yards away. Every bump nearly topples the wheelbarrow as it careens all over the damn place.
A male voice yells behind me. “Stop!”
Yeah right. Does any criminal actually stop when they’re told?