Kate Evangelista - Til Death

Pushing away the hurt the reminder of his failure caused, he said, “I’m sorry I’m not the favorite anymore, Granddad. You can put all your focus on Devin now. If you’re done telling me how much of a disappointment I am, I have to go. Tell Mom and Dad ‘hi’ for me.”

He logged off before his grandfather could say anything else.

Selena

Broken Hearts, Broken Parts

I followed Mr. Sloan through a kitchen with gleaming marble counter tops, honey-colored cabinets, a large center island with copper pots and pans hanging above it, and a stainless steel fridge. Mr. Sloan wore a moss-colored sweater and dark jeans, looking oh-so-casual and doubly sexy. Genes like that shouldn’t all go to one family. I could just imagine what Dillan’s parents looked like to produce someone as hot as him. I made a mental note never to tell Mr. Ego that or all hell would break loose.

We passed a sunken living room dominated by a massive white couch. I let myself imagine Dillan lounging on it, reading a book with that same intense concentration he wore the first time I’d seen him at the bookstore.

At the end of the hall, Mr. Sloan motioned for me to enter a room with huge glass windows along one side. I blinked repeatedly because of the sudden brightness compared to the more muted lighting in the living room. When my vision cleared, I gasped. In the distance, a pond gleamed where a gathering of ducks bobbed over the water’s surface. A group of geese flew by in a loose V.

“Wow,” I said. “Amazing view, Mr. Sloan.”

“Yes.” A clipped answer, not at all like the warm and inviting Mr. Sloan I knew from school. Dillan’s comment about losing his mind rang in my ears. What could have hurt this man?

In my periphery, I noticed a large frame spanning one wall. I turned to gape at a family tree with at least a hundred names. It pulled me closer, like I should know what it represented. My eyes searched the names and found Rainer Sloan and Aluara Sullivan. Most of the names carried the Sullivan last name. And Mr. Sloan’s was the only name not crossed out.

“This was my wife’s family tree.”

“You were married?” I asked when he came to my side.

“A long time ago.” A robotic answer. Cold.

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

His words forced me to face him. I couldn’t believe this was the same Mr. Sloan that taught American History at Newcastle High. I barely recognized the guy who stood beside me now. He looked so withdrawn. The warmth had disappeared. His eyes stayed on the family tree, but from the deep lines at the sides of his lips, I could tell he held something back.

“Did you retire because she died?”

Icy blue eyes settled on me. I almost flinched back. Almost.

“She was the last of her family,” he said. “I keep the Sullivan family tree here to remind me betrayal can come from anyone. Even those you trust the most.”

His words scared me. I didn’t like this version of Mr. Sloan. Was that all an act? How much more lying could I take? The normal life I’d so carefully built around me seemed to crumble with each new piece of information I gathered.

“Intimidating her already, Rainer?” Dillan walked briskly into the study and moved to my side. He snaked an arm around my shoulders. “Witness the Jekyll and Hyde that is my uncle. Sunny outdoors, chilly indoors. Make sure not to swing at him or you lose an arm.”

“What did your grandfather want with you?” Mr. Sloan regarded him with the same ice he used on me.

“Oh, he just wanted to make sure I’m still the failure he thinks I am.”

The desire to defend, the need to protect, flowed through me when I heard Dillan’s self-deprecating words. “You’re not a failure.”

He planted a soft kiss on my temple. “Thanks. But that doesn’t erase the fact.”

“Enough PDA.” Mr. Sloan walked to his imposing lava stone desk opposite the framed family tree. On top, Dillan’s bandana and the needle he asked me to pull out of a tree from Mt. Rushmore waited for us. “We have much to discuss.”

I leaned closer to Dillan and whispered, “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”

“Because you won’t.” He nudged me forward. “Remember what I told you about the things that go bump in the night? Well…”

“Don’t over simplify this, Dillan,” Mr. Sloan scolded. He sat down on the leather swivel chair behind his desk and tented his fingers. “You know better.”

“You’re right, uncle .”

A quiver went through me. Something about the way Dillan said uncle spoke of moonless nights and menace. Beneath the surface of his charm and arrogance hid a deadly aura that reached out and grabbed my spine, causing it to straighten like a rod. There was still so much I didn’t know about him. The playful guy who looked hot in a ribbed shirt was just one side of the whole. I couldn’t let my guard down for a second.

I broke the awkward silence that settled in the room. “So, you know what’s after me.”

Mr. Sloan pointed at a chair. “Take a seat.”

“I’ll stand, thank you.”

He wasted no time when he asked, “What do you know of Manticores, Selena?”

The word set off a chime of recognition in my brain. I should be familiar with it, but the light bulb moment seemed too far away for me to reach. My hands came together in a tight grip until my knuckles turned white.

Not waiting for my answer, he shifted his icy glare to Dillan. “Enlighten her, please.”

“Manticore. A creature that has the body of a lion, the tail of a scorpion, and the head of a man with lots, and I mean lots , of sharp teeth. Its name means man-eater in Old Persian. In ancient times, it was known to lure men off the road with its melodious call and eat them.”

My throat constricted, cutting off the air I so desperately needed. “What does it have to do with that needle?”

“Manticores shoot poisonous needles from their tail.” Mr. Sloan indicated the spike with his finger. “That’s certainly from a young one.”

“How do you know it’s young?” Dillan asked.

Mr. Sloan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re alive. The older the creature is, the more potent its poison. The wound should have killed you instantly, but it didn’t.” My teacher studied me closely. “Are you aware of the kind of danger you’re in, Selena?”

His question hit me square in the chest where fear gnawed away. “You tell me. Only a month ago, I thought my life was normal. Now, I’ve been attacked by corpses, I find out about the Illumenari, and you’re telling me a creature that shoots poison darts—”

“Needles,” Dillan corrected.

“Whatever.” I glared at him. “I wish I could say I want my old life back, but it’s not going to happen. So, you tell me, Mr. Sloan . Do you think I’m not aware of how dangerous my life suddenly is?” Dillan squeezed my shoulder in warning. I ignored it. I was on a roll. “Instead of telling me what I already know, why don’t you share something useful, like how I can survive this?” I still held on to the hope that everything that had been happening had nothing to do with my certain death.

“I believe now is the time for you to speak to your grandparents.” He tapped his desk.

My brain switched to overdrive. “What do they have to do with all this?”

“More than you might think.” He nodded. “We’ve been monitoring the situation, but the creature continues to elude our efforts to capture it. Dillan can’t seem to find proper tracks that could lead us to where it hides.”

“It’s probably a rogue.” He rubbed his chin.

“Manticores are obsessive creatures. When they latch onto someone, in this case—”