Page 45 of Sold Rejected Mate
“Nah,” Felix says, lowering his nose and shaking his head, though I can see that behind his eyes, he’s still trying to figure out what it is. He’ll get like this with smells, catching one and bursting out, weeks later, “English teacher’s perfume!”
Which inevitably scares the shit out of us and pisses Soren off, who will say, “Why don’t you just start some sort of fucking smell journal and leave us out of it?”
“Where have we seen this before?”
It’s a tiny clearing in the middle of the forest, big enough for the three of us to stand inside, in which the air is crystal clear—no smoke, no ash, nothing but the natural, untouched smell of the forest. Last year, we came across some areas like this, but never figured out what the hell they were.
“Weird etchings, just like before,” Felix says, touching the tree where the marks are.
Xeran lifts his phone, takes a picture of the markings. He’s been going through his father’s books, cross-checking, trying to see if they contain anything about the symbols. So far, there’s nothing.
“Great,” I mutter. I hate the feeling of not knowing what’s going on. In the time since the daemon fires first started igniting around us, ever since that first fire, we’ve discovered ways to stop it, like with the extinguisher. We’ve discovered methods of protecting the forest, like the waxy substance we spray over the trees as we make our way back down the mountain. But no matter how much we dig, it feels like we can never find an answer forwhy. Why the fires are happening, how they start. We’re too busy literally fighting fires to figure it out.
When we get back to the truck, Xeran lets out a sigh. “If we don’t have any calls between today and tomorrow, let’s meet up and go through the site out on the north side of town.”
I nod, but Felix looks lost in thought.
“Fel?” Xeran asks, raising his eyes at him as he throws his stuff in the back of his truck. “You good?”
Felix blinks, looking first at Xeran, then at me. “Sorry—I can’t get that scent out of my head. I swear to the gods I’ve been smelling it at all the fires.”
Xeran’s jaw ticks quickly, and he says, “Well, when it comes to you, make sure you let me know.”
Laughing and climbing onto his bike, Felix says, “Nice. For once, you guys are actually happy about my nose.”
***
When I pull up to the gate at my parents’ house, the attendant greets me from his spot in the little guard shack. The first time I brought the guys over when we were teenagers, they made fun of me for weeks.
“Your parents are going tofeudal England,” Soren had laughed.
“Fucking nerd,” I threw back at him, knowing his insults were justified. My parents have always been extra, with the full staff and the constant, straining pressure to maintain the status quo.
Talking to Valerie yesterday up at the ridge made me think about other mistakes I’ve made in my life, which made me think of my sister. I couldn’t remember the last time I talked to her. The last time I’d even seen her in person.
“They’re not home, Lach,” the guard says when I slow the car and reach out a hand to wave to him. “They went to some sort of luncheon.”
“That’s fine,” I say, trying hard not to stare at the guard’s perfect handlebar mustache. He’s one of the characters of this house, a man who’s been working for my parents from the time we moved to Silverville. When I think back to my childhood, Isee him fifteen years younger, but with the same iconic facial hair.
“Is Aurela here?” I ask.
Mustache tries not to give me a look but does, anyway. The look saysOf course your sister is here. She is always here.
“I think so,” he says instead. “Let me open up the gate for you.”
After parking, I go inside, climb the steps to her room, and knock. The sinking feeling in my stomach only gets deeper the longer it takes for her to respond to the sound.
Finally, after I knock a second time, I hear the creak of her bed and something like a long, heavy sigh.
“Yes?” she asks, cracking open the door. Her eyes go wide when she sees me. “Lach?”
“Hey,” I say, clearing my throat, already feeling awkward.
“Mom and Dad aren’t home.”
“I know, I just—I wanted to see how you’re doing?”
It comes out lame—it’s a lame thing to say, I realize. Everything about this feels wrong, but I can’t just ignore her. Something is going on, and my parents clearly aren’t addressing it. Even her fiancé is acting like this is totally normal behavior, when it’s not.
