Page 24 of The Reveal
“They do,” I whisper.
I bend down and press a kiss to her forehead, feeling a kind of trembling deep inside because she is so papery now, so insubstantial, when in all my memories of her she could have taken down a mountain with her bare hands.
And likely did every day of the week before lunch.
When I go out of the room and lock her door behind me, I’m still shaky.
I go into the laundry room and fold clothes, vaguely thinking that it might be time for a snack, or possibly it’s time to walk the perimeter of the property before dusk to see if anything’s lying in wait—then nearly jump five feet in the air when I turn back toward the kitchen.
Because Briar is standing there, silently. Over by the counter next to the stove.
And somehow I know that she’s been watching me for a lot longer than I want to imagine. My temples throb a little bit, likeknowingsomething I shouldn’t be able to is painful.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelp. “Lurking around is a great way to get shot.”
She only stares at me, and I think for a moment that she’s wearing the exact same clothes as yesterday, but then I recognize that the T-shirt is different. The Dead Kennedys. I guess it’s nice that she’s thematically consistent.
“I know that werewolf was roaming around the property last night,” she says.
“Okay.” But if she already knows, why is she confronting me about it?
“You said there were rules.” Her mouth shifts into that sneer. “Or are there only rules if you don’t happen to be the pretty little werewolf princess who lets everybody kiss her ass from the Cascades to the Coastal Range?”
Meaning the entire valley.
“You have a specific complaint, Briar?” I ask.
“You know what they say.” That sneer deepens and her eyes flash darkly. “Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas. Now imagine if it’s werewolves. You won’t get up at all.”
“I don’t think that’s the thing they say.”
She mutters something at me that sounds a lot like “Go fuck yourself,” but I’m too surprised to ask for clarification, or even to take offense. Then she darts for the back door, slamming her way out so hard that the glasses in the cabinets rattle.
I find all my new tenants confusing, but Briar most of all. Not least because she is still wearing that cap pulled down over her ears when it’s really not that cold outside.
I jog upstairs to my room and tell myself I’m going to have a lovely evening in. Perhaps mend my clothes, because it’s so easy to tear them to shreds while shooting at things, hiding in the underbrush, and vaulting in and out of the coffee stand when monsters decide that the trash run is an invitation to attack. Perhaps read a book.
Perhaps stare at the ceiling and succumb to existential despair, like you do.
But instead, I think of how it felt last night to sit out on the step behind the house, head tipped back and all the stars there before me. Of how magical it was to do something that I once took entirely for granted.
If Ariel Skinner wanted to kill you,Maddox said,he would just kill you.
This time, when I think it, it actually does feel comforting.
Maybe that’s why I find myself leaving the house as the sun drips toward the Coastal Range, reds and oranges mingling with the smoke into something spectacular.
Jaw-dropping. In another life, I would have hiked up to the scenic overview on the Britt trails and watched the sky turn into art.
I only wish I had nothing to do tonight but sit and watch the sun go down.
Once I’m locked up tight in the car and driving down the hill, however, my head is full of lore. About the vampire king who I’ve had no particular reason to think about with any specificity before now. He was just another element of this new world of ours. Nothing to do with me.
I can’t even remember who first told me that, turns out, there’d been vampires living among us all along.
As I drive through town, I see Samuel engaged in conversation with a few other neighbors outside the local saloon. Normally, I would slow the truck down and make sure that there was at least a little eye contact with him, but I don’t tonight.
Maybe I don’t want to have another conversation with him if he’s only going to yell at me about my tenant situation. Maybe I’m enough of a disappointment already, even if it’s secondhand, my grandmother thinking that she was talking to my mom.
