“Heya, Reid. Have you met Kali?”
Skylar said the words like she genuinely thought there was a chance that her oldest brother had met me before, and if I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn she was completely guileless.
Apparently, Reid knew her better than that, too.
“We haven’t met,” he told me, ignoring his sister and bringing the full force of a miss-nothing stare to bear on my face. “But I believe I’m acquainted with some friends of yours.”
I tried to read in between the lines of his words. Beside me, Skylar helpfully made zombie motions, her head lolled to the side and her arms held out like claws.
“Right,” I said, at a complete loss for words. “The zombies. In case you didn’t notice, we didn’t exactly part on friendly terms.”
The strength of Reid’s stare never wavered, never lessened. “You don’t say.”
I took a moment to study him, even though there was a part of my mind that was still locked on to the rhythm of Skylar’s heartbeat, the smell of her blood. While Skylar and Elliot were blond, Reid’s hair—buzzed close to his scalp—had a reddish tint to it. He was a full head taller than me—wiry, but strong. And beyond the smile, the expression on his face was … blank. Completely blank.
Clearly, he was reserving judgment. On me. On the zombies. Or maybe he was just hoping I’d crack and spill out the whole story, from start to finish.
I looked down and away. Somehow, after meeting Elliot and Vaughn, I’d expected Reid to be more talkative. I hadn’t expected him to treat me like I was a suspect—or a criminal.
Even though I was.
Beside me, Skylar rolled her eyes. “He’s this way with everyone,” she told me. “You’d be getting the Death Stare Third Degree even if you’d just come over for dinner—which, by the way, should probably be ready soon.”
Reminded of Skylar’s presence, Reid fixed her with the same implacable stare he’d given me. “Are you okay?” he asked, clearly a man of few words.
She nodded. “Peachy keen.”
His stone-hard face softened, just a little. Then he turned back to me. I braced myself, but all he did was repeat the question he’d asked Skylar. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, sure that if I spoke, the words would sound like a lie.
“We brought you something,” Skylar said, before Reid could ask me anything else. “It’s the SIM card from Bethany’s dad’s phone. Or at least, it’s what’s left of the SIM card.”
Reid folded his arms over his chest. “Do I want to know how you got it?”
Skylar glanced at me.
Reid cast his eyes heavenward. “I’ll take that as a no.”
Skylar must have noticed her brother’s exasperation, but she expertly ignored it. “Do you think you might be able to pull something useful off the card?”
Reid gave her A Look, capital A, capital L.
“Hey, we’re the ones who—” Skylar didn’t even get to finish that sentence. Reid bent down to her level, Look still in place.
“You’re the ones who did what exactly?”
Skylar did a passing job of looking like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Vaughn probably told you everything, anyway,” she grumbled, sounding all of five years old.
“Vaughn probably did,” Reid agreed.
“Are you going to look into it?” Skylar asked.
Reid didn’t answer. He just took the SIM card and pocketed it. “If either of you hear anything else, if you see anything—I want you to call me.”
He handed me a business card and turned the full force of the Look on me. “Anything, any time, no matter how small. Do you understand?”
Actually, no. I didn’t. He didn’t know me. He had no reason to trust me. And if Vaughn had told him everything, he knew I wasn’t human, not really.
“If there’s something to take care of, I’ll take care of it. You shouldn’t have to.” He turned his attention back to Skylar. “And you,” he continued, “know better.”
“I know a lot of things,” Skylar said softly, and for the first time, I saw a familial resemblance between them. “More than I’d like to.”
“This could be dangerous.” Reid’s tone never changed. The Look never wavered.
“This isn’t just dangerous,” Skylar retorted. “It’s deadly.”
Blood and bleeding and my body lying on the side of the road, I thought. Poison tearing through my body, fangs through my chest.
“I’ll take care of it,” Reid said. “And I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will be,” Skylar said, rising on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on his cheek. “By the way, I got you a little something.”
Suspicion flickered across his face—until she handed him the key chain.
“Number Four Brother,” he said, trying very hard not to laugh. “Cute.”
This time, I could hear both of their hearts beating. I could smell strawberries and blood. There was warmth on my skin, and deep inside of me—hunger.
Thirst.
“You want to stay for dinner?” Skylar asked me. I looked from her to Reid to the pictures on the wall. In the kitchen, Skylar’s mother was singing along to the radio, and I heard the rumble of the garage door—her father, home from work.
“I have to go,” I said.
Go hunting.
Go home.
27
When I got home from hunting—feeding—my dad was in the kitchen. He seemed lost, like he’d forgotten where exactly the microwave was, and when I came in, he actually smiled.
“There you are.”
I so didn’t want to get into this—not now.
“I thought I might cook dinner tonight,” he said. “Today was my sexual selection lecture—the kids always love that one.”
It took me a moment to realize that he was trying to make conversation. It seemed ironic that he’d picked today, of all days, to remember my existence.
“Your school called,” he said suddenly. “They said you missed your classes.”
Why did I get the distinct feeling that my father had run an Internet search for “what to do when your child plays hooky”? Hence the homemade dinner and his best attempt at a heart-to-heart.
Considering my own mother might have ordered someone to kill me, my dad’s clumsy attempts to parent didn’t seem as bad as they otherwise might have. Then again, on any other day, I might have actually let myself believe that things were going to change.