Page 8 of Kandie Shoppe

He looks at my shelf and grabs one of my thick fantasy compendiums.

“Um, what are you doing?” I demand, swinging my legs over, not liking that he has my special edition ofTheCruelPrinceand is putting his fingerprints on my one-of-a-kind book I had bound special for my collection.

“Get your little ass back in that goth fairy bed. You have a concussion. Your pupils are dilated. You’re unsteady on your feet beyond the fact that you’re obviously inebriated. You’re banged up pretty good. I’m staying to make sure you make it through the night,” he grumbles, distractedly.

“I don’t need you to do that, Ulysses. Your mom needs you.” I remind him of the only reason he came back to town — his mom who took over being sheriff after his father died and has stage four breast cancer.

“Mom’s fine. I texted her before I saw you on the road. I’m working the night shift this weekend, so her nurse is there if she needs anything. They were watching some K-Drama.” He doesn’t bother looking at me as he puts his finger on the pages of my book like he got it from the half off shelf from some used bookstore.

Pouting, I pull the tattered blouse over my head and unhook my bra.

“What are you doing?” I almost giggle when he sounds like someone punched him in the chest.

“Getting my little ass back into that goth fairy bed,” I say, pausing as I shimmy out of my shorts and stand naked as the day I was born in front of Ulysses Shelby for the first time in fifteen years. I look pointedly at my bottom. “But ain’t nothing little about this booty, baby.” I almost mess up the effect when I feel a little whoosh of dizziness as I turn to make my way to the bathroom.

I can feel his eyes tracking me the whole way, and it’s not because he is trying to make sure I don’t faint.

When I return from taking care of my lady business and brushing my teeth, he doesn’t even look up from his, well, my book. Still, I know he doesn’t miss a thing.

“Goodnight, U,” I say, clicking the bedside lamp off, noticing the soft glow from my reading nook and feeling an odd sense of safety I know I shouldn’t.

“Night, wildcat.” My coochie clenches at his words in a way that lets me know I’m going to have to do something about Ulysses Shelby soon. And it’s going to spell a world of trouble for us both.

I lay there watching him become engrossed in the story about a supposedly human girl who hates a coldhearted villain, as the past comes to claim me in my dreams.

Chapter

Two

Wonder Twins

Kandie (twenty years ago)

“They are coming tonight.”Looking at my twin Kerania, I know she doesn’t miss the fear and anger in Daddy’s voice.

“We have to get Nicolette that medicine. Her fever is too high,” Mommy whispers in a rushed voice as she rushes to pack our baby sister’s things.

“You know what we have to do?” Kerania's eyes light with malice and mischief.

I nod. She’s the leader — always has been.

“Wonder twins activate,” she says and I press my fist to hers wanting so badly to tell her this is not the game we started playing years ago when Daddy first showed us the cartoon from when he was little on YouTube about the superheroes that weretwins like my sister and me. Only they were brother and sister, fraternal twins to us, being identical.

“Shape of fire,” Kerania says with glee at the chance to set something on fire.

“Form of wildcat,” I follow, knowing I can get into all the tight places to activate the traps we set days ago when the people from DHS came to say that our parents didn’t provide a safe living environment for us. Which was a dang lie. We were safe out here on my daddy’s land. He built this house with his own hands, along with his brothers and cousins.

“Only me and your daddy is the reason they say y’all ain’t safe,” Mommy told us sadly. “They were okay to leave us alone until we had y’all. Now that they know where we are, they are determined to take y’all from us. My brother’s wife has sued for custody, and they are taking y’all over there.”

She sounded so sad. And even though I love visiting my uncle, Spence, I knew his wife, Natalia, didn’t like us for real. She has some type of strange jealousy for Mommy she ain’t never got over. But that’s grown folks’ business, like Daddy says. Right now, I need to set those traps.

I’m the one whose job it is to set off the firecrackers at the top of the stairs when I hear them pull up. Creeping down to the first landing, I peek out the window.

“So many,” I say, seeing all the county vehicles. You’d think they were coming after a serial killer instead of a man, his wife, and three daughters.

“Guys, hurry up. Take what you have and let’s get down to the basement,” Daddy whisper shouts just as they start banging on the door.

“Josiah, this is Sheriff Hezekiah Shelby. We have an order signed by the state of Alabama Supreme Court for you to render Kerania, Kandice, and Nicolette Love to the custody of Andrew Spence.” The sheriff sounds different than I’ve ever heard himbefore. He sounds really mad. Only this time I don’t know who at. He always seemed apologetic every time my aunt sent them out here on some bogus health and welfare check. Even on the day Mommy had Nicolette in a special made birthing tub, they came saying she was in violation of health and safety for having a home birth.

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