“That won’t matter unless he’s a complete idiot,” Sabine said. “And if he were an idiot, we’d have heard about him hitting on students before one of them miscarried in his class. And anyway, if Danica’s any indication, he’s picking juniors and seniors—girls at or past the age of consent. Which is seventeen, in Texas, in case you were wondering.”
I scowled at her. “I wasn’t wondering.”
“My point is that even if he was scared of the human justice system—and he’s not. Hell, I’m not—he’s not doing anything illegal, technically. He could get fired, but I seriously doubt he gives a shit. He wants a son, not a pension.”
“Okay, so we agree that he’s going to try to spread his seed beyond just Emma,” I said, thinking aloud.
“And the next girl will probably be a junior or a senior,” Nash said, glancing at Sabine to acknowledge the age range she’d provided.
“She’ll be one of his own students,” the mara added. “Someone having enough trouble in math to warrant personal attention, which will make his interest in her look like legitimate academic concern.”
“And opportunity,” Nash said, pushing his empty plate away. “He’ll be looking for someone whose parents aren’t going to get in the way. You said Farrah’s dad’s a trucker, so he’s gone a lot, right? And didn’t you say her mother’s dead? And Danica’s mom’s been in the hospital for a while, so she wasn’t there to notice anything going on.”
“Yeah, but Mrs. Sussman’s only been in a coma for four weeks, and Danica said she spent one night with the baby’s father about a month ago,” I said. “So it’s entirely possible that Danica got pregnant before her mom got sick. Or at least right around that time…” My voice trailed off as another possibility clicked into place in my head.
“What?” Sabine called when I pushed my chair back and headed for the living room, to grab my laptop from my bag.
I set the laptop on the table and turned it on as I pulled my chair closer. “Danica’s mother’s brain-dead, according to the nurse, and Farrah’s mother is just plain dead.”
“You think that’s more than a coincidence?” Nash asked, scooting his chair closer so he could see the screen as I opened my web browser.
“What have we learned about coincidence, boys and girls?” I typed the keywords: Combs, Farrah, obituary and Crestwood, Texas into the search engine and hit Enter.
“There’s no such thing,” Nash mumbled as results began to fill the screen. The third link led to the Dallas Morning News online obituary page entry for Lynne Combs. “There.” Nash pointed and I clicked, and Sabine and Alex got up to look over my shoulder as I read aloud.
“Lynne Erica Combs, 38, passed away in her home on August 29. She is survived by daughter Farrah Combs and husband Michael Combs, of Crestwood, Texas, and sister Emily Meyers of Dallas, Texas.”
“August,” Sabine said, as I pressed the print screen button. “Almost seven months ago.”
“Lydia said Farrah was twenty-eight weeks pregnant.” I closed my laptop without bothering to shut it down. “That’s seven months, right?”
Nash nodded. “Are we all thinking the same thing?”
“He fed on the mothers and bred with the daughters.” My stomach pitched with disgust, and suddenly I was glad I hadn’t eaten anything. I twisted in my chair to face Alec, who looked as grim as I’d ever seen him—which said a lot, considering how he’d spent the last quarter of a century. “Is that proof enough for you? Has he earned a permanent end?”
Alec nodded, glancing around at each of the three of us. “Take him down.”
14
“So, I’m meeting Mr. Beck after school today,” Emma announced, a bottle of Coke halfway to her mouth.
“No you’re not,” I said, and Sabine choked on a laugh.
Em set her bottle on the picnic table and glared at me. “Does the phrase, ‘You’re not the boss of me,’ mean anything to you?”
“Nope. Nothing.” But I softened my hard line with a smile.
“Nothing what?” Nash slid onto the bench seat next to me with a tray full of chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes and Em turned to him, like she’d just discovered an ally.
“Mr. Beck’s tutoring me after last period today…” she began, and Nash looked at me over a spoonful of potatoes.
“You really think that’s a good idea?”
“Why are you asking her?” Em demanded, and Sabine just watched, enjoying the show.
“Sorry.” Nash dipped a chicken nugget into a puddle of gravy and glanced at me again with his brows raised. “I wasn’t sure how much…?”
“She knows everything. About Beck…” I qualified, when his brows rose even higher. I’d given Em the basics before first period, hoping to arm her with knowledge. But I still hadn’t decided what to tell her about Thursday. I didn’t want her worrying about me for the next two days, but I didn’t want my death to take her by surprise, either.
“Okay, look, it’s not like you’re swimming in options here,” Em pointed out, as Nash shoved the entire nugget into his mouth. “You guys need me. Sabine can’t get close to him and even if Kaylee’s math grades were bad—and they’re not—she’s not exactly seducible.”
Sabine laughed so hard she nearly inhaled a corn chip.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.
The mara cleared her throat, eyes still watering. “She means that you’re a solid, respectable seven on a scale of ten. But Beck’s gonna be looking for an eleven.” Sabine shrugged while I glowered at her. “That, or your ironclad virginity’s a deal-breaker.”
“That’s not what I meant…” Emma started, but I was too furious at the mara to listen to anything else until I’d had my say.
“Shut up!” I snapped at Sabine, and they all three stared at me in surprise, not because Sabine didn’t deserve it, but because I rarely let her have it. “Just shut the hell up until you have something helpful to say. I’m trying to do something really important here before I…” I trailed off with a glance at Emma. “Before anyone else gets hurt. And I’m sick of Sabine taking cheap shots at me. I’m sick of school, and bells, and classes that don’t matter. I’m sick of waiting for the inevitable.”
My voice was rising, and people from other tables were starting to look, but I couldn’t stop. There were too many things taking up space in my head, and the only way to relieve some of the pressure was to let them spill out of my mouth. And spill they did….
“I’m pissed off about all the things I’ll never see and do, and I’m furious about the fact that I don’t have time for anything I want to do, because I have to spend seven hours a day here, learning things I’m not going to use just in case I get a chance to do what really needs to be done. And even if I manage to actually do that, no one’s ever going to know about it. Which shouldn’t matter. This isn’t about me anyway, right? But the selfish part of me wants to be remembered for doing something good. Something important. But in the end, I’ll just be gone, and the world will go on like I was never here, and I won’t even be around to be pissed off about that.”
Sabine and Emma gaped at me, and on the edge of my vision, my cousin Sophie stood from her table and stomped into the cafeteria, probably mortified by the spectacle I’d made of myself, and of her by extension.
Screw Sophie.
Nash slid one arm around my waist and started to whisper something in my ear, but before he’d said more than my name, someone started clapping. I looked up just as Thane appeared on the bench across from me, next to Emma.
Startled, I yelped and jerked away from the table. Nash tried to catch me, but I fell over the bench and landed on my back on the grass, stunned and out of breath.
Laughter echoed all around me, but I barely heard it. Em and Sabine stood to make sure I was okay. Nash pulled me to my feet and brushed grass from my back, but I couldn’t focus on what he was saying, because when Emma sat, Thane scooted closer to her. So close that if he’d been corporeal, she’d have felt his warmth
against her arm.
“Entertaining as always, Kaylee…” Thane said. “If I ask nicely, will you scream for me when it’s time?” Then he disappeared and my hands shook at my sides as the rest of the quad roared back into focus, now that the reminder of my own mortality had gone.
And there, leaning against the brick wall across from my table, stood Tod, scowling furiously at the spot where Thane had just been. He met my gaze and held it for just a second, then blinked out of sight.
“Kaylee, are you okay?” Emma asked, as I sank onto the bench seat again.
“Yeah.” I ran my hands through my hair to tame it, and debated hiding behind it instead. People were still staring. I could feel them.
“What was that all about?” she asked, while Sabine just watched me, without her usual smirk for once.
“Nothing. Sorry. I’m just stressed about Beck and I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Em looked unconvinced. “Maybe you should go home for a nap,” she suggested. “I’m sure Nash could talk them into letting you check out.” Every now and then his Influence actually came in handy.
“I don’t have time for a nap. I’m fine.”
“What do you mean, you don’t have time?”
Crap. Get it together, Kaylee. “Are you seriously going to see Mr. Beck after school today?” I asked, and for a second, she looked thrown by the change of subject.
Then Emma nodded. “If you’re done bossing me around.”
I exhaled, long and slow, then met her gaze. “Em, I’m just trying to protect you. But if the threat of pregnancy, infertility and death isn’t enough to give you second thoughts about playing bait…I guess I can understand that.”
My dad had been trying to protect me from the Netherworld ever since he’d come back from Ireland, and I’d sidestepped every effort he’d made, because my own safety—hell, my own life—didn’t seem worth protecting if I wasn’t willing to risk it for something important. If Em felt the same, who was I to stand in her way?
“But I’m sure as hell not going to leave you alone with him.” She had no resistance to his lascivious charm, and her intentions would melt into memory once he unleashed the onslaught of lust she wasn’t prepared to resist, no matter how hard she dug her heels into the dirt. In fact, he may already have started. Was that why she was insisting on playing bait? To stay close to him? “So I don’t have time for a nap.”
“Thanks.” Em looked relieved, in spite of her bravado. “You three aren’t the only ones pissed off about what he did to Danica, and I may not be able to cross into the Netherworld or make people do whatever I say, but I do know a thing or two about fending off wandering hands. But I do have one question before I totally commit to this, my first supersecret spy mission,” Em said, her eyes sparkling with good humor. “Did we ever find out for sure about the possible forked penis?”
I stared at the clock for most of last period, waiting for the hands to move, but they seemed sluggish at best, and by the time class ended, I’d had as much French as I could take. When the bell finally rang, Emma stood so fast her chair skidded on the floor and she was in the hall before the ringing echo faded from my ears. She was definitely eager to get to Mr. Beck’s room, and her unbridled enthusiasm made me very, very nervous. I tried to follow her, but Mrs. Brown stepped in front of me before I made it to the end of the aisle.
“Miss Cavanaugh, this is the second day in a row you haven’t had your homework.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I glanced into the hall and could just see Emma’s blond ponytail bouncing out of sight. “Can we talk about this later? I’m kind of in a hurry.”
“We can talk about this now.” Mrs. Brown reached for the door like she’d close it, trapping me. “You know I have a zero-tolerance policy for missing assignments, and I don’t think you’ve missed one all year until this week. Is something wrong, Kaylee?”
“No, everything’s great. Really. It’ll never happen again, but I have to go now. I’m late for…something.” Mrs. Brown called my name, but I was already out the door, clutching the shoulder strap of my bag, forcing my way against the flow of traffic toward the parking lot. I dodged every familiar face for fear of another delay, and when the hall finally cleared, I jogged left around the corner—just as Mr. Beck pulled his door closed.
Crap. I’d hoped to beat him there, so I could hide in the storage closet and keep an eye on Emma. The plan felt a little juvenile, but Nash and Sabine knew where we were, just in case something went wrong.
But now the door was closed, and I couldn’t get in without being seen. Unless…
I set my bag on the floor in the hall and dug my phone from my pocket to text Tod.
@ SCHOOL. NEED UR HELP
Tod always answered instantly, probably because unless he was reaping a soul or actually delivering a pizza, he had nothing else to do. But this time, when Emma needed us both, he was out of reach.
I stood on my toes to peek through the window in Beck’s classroom door just in time to see him gesture toward the rolling chair behind his desk. Emma smiled up at him, then sat, and he pushed the chair forward. Then he leaned over her shoulder, pointing at something in the textbook open on his desk.
I wanted to vomit. He hadn’t done anything overtly evil, but just being alone in a closed classroom with a female student was borderline inappropriate, and out of character, based on what Farrah had told us about his determination to maintain the appearance of propriety.
Beck was getting desperate. He was rushing things. And based on the stoned-out-of-her-mind expression on Emma’s face—she was watching him, not the book—she was falling for it. Falling for him. Even knowing what he’d done to Danica and Farrah, and countless other girls our age.
Beck looked up, and I ducked beneath the window, heart pounding, fingers crossed that he hadn’t seen me. The hallway was empty, but it probably wouldn’t be for long, and Tod still hadn’t responded. Sabine and Nash were in the quad, waiting for word from me. Not that they could help. I needed to borrow reaper abilities, and in the absence of those, my own were the next best thing.
But that wasn’t saying much.
Throat tight with dread, I stepped into the middle of the hall, glancing back and forth to make sure I was alone. So far so good.
I didn’t want to cross into the Netherworld. And I especially didn’t want to cross over in my school, which I knew for a fact to be Avari’s new base of operations, unless something had changed in the past six weeks. But I wasn’t going to hang Emma out to dry, even knowing that crossing into the Netherworld could mean forfeiting my last two days of life.
Fortunately, with no mental patient yelling at me and no hospital aide shouting for security, I might just be calm enough to put aside fears of my own demise long enough to focus on one from my past.
Sucking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes and thought back to the last death I’d seen—the last soul I’d sung for. Other than Danica’s baby, that was Mrs. Bennigan, who’d died in her classroom the day after Mr. Beck’s predecessor had died at his desk. While she’d breathed her last, I’d hidden outside with Nash, trying to hold back the song my body demanded I sing for her. The song that now echoed inside of me, in memory of her.
The clawing pain in my throat was both familiar and welcome, because with it came the first thin tendrils of sound—a muffled version of the fabled bean sidhe wail—which wanted to burst forth full-strength from my mouth. But this occasion called for stealth on both sides of the world barrier, so I swallowed all but a soft, high-pitched whine which resonated in the windowpane in the door to my left. It was a sound no human could have made, but it was quiet enough to go unnoticed.
A second after my wail began, the gray fog rolled in out of nowhere. The Nether-fog was liminal—a visual representation of the barrier between worlds—and while I stood in it, I wasn’t fully present in either the human world or the Nether. I was caught between, kept company by only the slithering, skittering creatures crawling through that fog,
their very presence a constant warning to move on, in one direction or the other.
I took one step away from the wall, and with a single thought of clear intent echoing in my head—I intend to cross over—the fog around me dissipated and the Netherworld came into startling, horrifying focus.
The first glimpse is always the worst—until you blink, and see it all for a second time, and you realize it’s not going to go away with just a click of your heels.
The building around me hadn’t changed. Because it was heavily populated during the school year, Eastlake High bled through into the Netherworld almost exactly as it existed in the human world. The real difference lay in what the Nether did with that building.
In the Netherworld version of Eastlake’s math hall, the walls were crawling with Crimson Creeper, a mass of slithering, dark green vines sprouting red-edged variegated leaves every couple of inches. The vines were carnivorous, of course, and they’d snatch anything edible within reach, which was why I’d crossed over in the middle of the hall. But the real danger was the thousands of needle-thin, titanium strong thorns. One prick would inject a predigestive poison to begin dissolving the victim’s organs from the inside out. And all the vine had to do then was coil around the body and wait for its liquefying meal to soak in like plant fertilizer.
I’d been stuck by an infant vine once, and the pinprick scars around my ankle were a lasting reminder never to tangle with it again.
Unfortunately, lengths of the vine crisscrossed the open doorway, blocking the Netherworld version of Beck’s classroom, beginning a couple of inches from the ground. I couldn’t get to the closet, where I’d planned to cross back over, without getting rid of the vines. And every minute I wasted in the Netherworld was a minute Emma was alone with Mr. Beck and his incubus charm.
For one long moment, I stood still, listening for evidence of any Nether-life. When I heard nothing immediately threatening, I jogged down the hall, careful to avoid twisting vine feelers and to peek into open classrooms before I passed by them. I turned right at the corner and ran past the foreign language labs and into the science wing, and only released the nervous breath I’d been holding when I saw that one of the three chemistry labs was open and free of Creeper vines, except for one stretching across the top corner of the doorway.