Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant (Cassidy Jones Adventures, Book Three) (15 page)

“No worries. My treat.”

“But you don’t even know him.”

“Well, neither do you.”

I gave a relenting nod. “You have a point.”

“And these—” He snatched a pair of socks from the shopping basket.

“You are not buying those!”

“
Who’s
going to stop me?”

“That would be me.” I grabbed the socks, and a playful tug of war ensued.

“Dang, you’re strong,” he said, having no clue just how strong I was. “And
stubborn.”

“
I’m
stubborn? You’re the one who won’t let go. You’re getting the hat. That’s plenty.”

“You can’t always get what you want,” he teased.

“Have it your way.” I released the socks.

Not prepared for this move, Jared stumbled backward, almost falling on his backside.

I chuckled as he righted himself. “Good save.”

“Victory!” He grinned, holding the socks up like a trophy.

I watched him, thinking how he was everything I wanted in a boy, and in life.
But will I ever have the life I want?

As I often did, I visualized the feral part of me as a snarling, restless, formless beast, chained in the recesses of my mind, waiting for me to relinquish control. And I’d done just that, twice—once to save my dad and once to save myself from Lily White. Regaining control had been much more difficult the second time.

What if I let go someday and can’t get the reins back?
This worry always cropped up after one of my beastly transformations. My body was still evolving, changing, so it stood to reason that my mind would, too. One day,
Cassidy
might be completely gone.

If Serena doesn’t find a cure . . .

“What’s wrong, Cassy?”

Coming out of my thoughts, I met Jared’s gaze. I didn’t even know at what point I had looked away from him as I ruminated. I stared into his concerned eyes, and a deep loneliness seized me. I was tired of hearing only my own voice answer my fears.

“Do you ever feel like there’s something dangerous inside of you?” I asked. “That if you ever let go, you’ll lose control over it?”

Jared didn’t laugh at me like most boys would. He had really thought this through. “I think I understand,” he said after a pause. “My music helps me cope.”

I opened my mouth, and then realized that what I was about to say would stimulate questions that might lead into a conversation I couldn’t have with him. I also realized I was intentionally sparking this conversation. I wanted to spill the beans. I wanted to reveal my secret and tell him precisely what I coped with.

Just as Emery has been worried I would do
.

In that moment, I understood another reason why Emery wanted me to keep Jared at arm’s length. He knew I would be tempted to blab. Obviously, he wasn’t far off base.

“That’s cool,” I answered, hoping to cover the fact that I wasn’t being upfront. I wouldn’t let Emery down today. “I wish I could play an instrument.”

Disappointment crossed Jared’s face. He knew I was holding back, but didn’t challenge me on this. “If you’re interested, I’ll teach you how to play guitar,” he offered instead.

I wasn’t, although I was mighty interested in spending as much time with him as possible.

“That would be great. Thanks.” I smiled.

He smiled, too, and then snagged the other pair of socks from my basket and ran for the register.

“If you buy those, you are so dead!” I shouted, running after him.

~~~

Jared and I walked toward Occidental Park in Pioneer Square, the last place I had seen Joe during the daytime. His scent revealed that he was there now, too.

When I caught sight of him sitting at the foot of one of the four totem poles, I stopped dead in my tracks. Elbows on knees, he rubbed his dark-lined forehead wearily. A Seattle Mariners baseball cap had been forced firmly over his salt-and-pepper dreadlocks.

The hat Jared bought him will keep his head warm
, I thought, pained to see Joe looking so tired and so old. He meant the world to me. He should have been in a warm house, surrounded by a loving family, not out in the cold.

“Is that him?” Jared asked.

I glanced sidelong to see him staring at Joe, too.

“Yes.” I pushed down the lump in my throat.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Jared’s gaze cut to me. I pretended not to notice him scrutinizing me.

“Let’s go,” he said a moment later, walking forward, then stopping to look back when I didn’t move.

I hadn’t thought this part through. I couldn’t hand Joe the REI bags and let him see my face. He would know by my gesture that it was me, and if he had any doubts, one look at my eyes would confirm his suspicion. Eyes, mouth, and the skin exposed by my ski mask were the only parts of my face he had ever seen. He would recognize my eyes for sure.

“You do it.” I shoved my REI bag at Jared. He looked at me with surprise. “I’ll stay here.”

After analyzing my strange demand, Jared surveyed the area, uneasily assessing two homeless men to our left. His concern was totally valid. I had crossed paths with those two on more than one occasion during my midnight jaunts. They were very seedy fellows, indeed.

“I’ll be fine,” I assured him, urging him forward with a little push. I figured he would chalk up my reluctance to shyness. Jared knew I could be bashful at times.

Frowning, he sized up the men again while they hit up pedestrians for money.

“Shout if you need me,” he instructed, and took off toward Joe. When he was about thirty feet away, I remembered something.

“Psst, Jared.”

Wheeling around as if ready for a fight, he glared at the two men. When he saw that they were panhandling and not bothering me, his fierce gaze jumped to my face. I couldn’t help but smile. Jared was so cute.

“Tell him there’s a shelter on Yesler,” I said in a low voice, exaggerating the word formation so he would understand me at this distance. Joe was perfectly aware of this, of course. This was my sneaky way of letting him know that I knew he wasn’t spending the night in the shelter and he really should. Joe was a smart man. He would read between the lines.

Jared nodded, but looked less than thrilled about doing so. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t follow through. I wouldn’t want to tell a perfect stranger where the nearest homeless shelter was, either.

Turning, he continued on his way.

I watched Jared cross the brick square with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Two of my most favorite people in the whole world were about to meet. Who wouldn’t be excited? Not only that, but a person from my
normal
life and a person from my
mutant
life were about to meet—worlds colliding. Who wouldn’t be stressed?

Jared stopped a few feet from Joe and opened his mouth to speak. I weeded out competing noise and dialed in his frequency.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Joe lifted his head from his palms and looked up at him.

“My friend, the girl ov—”

Oh, geez.
I whipped my back to them, yanking my hood over my head in the process. I hadn’t expected Jared to point me out.

In my surprise, I’d lost the connection. With my eyes fixed on the red brick under my feet, I searched for Jared’s voice again.

“The redhead—” He stopped.

I shoved some stray hairs into my hood, assuming he was looking at me and wondering why I had just turned my back to him and put my hood on. He probably thought I was nuts.

“I mean, in the blue coat,” he went on a moment later, confusion edging his voice. “She asked me to give you these.”

The plastic bags rustled while exchanging hands.

Joe cleared his throat. “Thank you kindly.” His deep, melodic voice, thick with emotion, stirred my emotions as well. I missed talking to him. “Please tell your friend I’m grateful.”

“Sir . . . do you know her?”

What?
Alarm crashed through me like a tsunami. Why would Jared ask that?

Because he doesn’t believe me
. Jared thought I was lying, and he was right. My shoulders hunched in shame.

“I don’t need to know her to know what kind of person she is,” Joe said. The bags rustled from being shaken. “This tells me all I need to know. Treasure her friendship, young man. A good-hearted person doesn’t come around every day.”

Joe’s kind words failed to penetrate. I was completely unworthy.

“I know,” Jared agreed, solemn. “And I do. She’s been a good friend to me for a long time.”

I shook my head, even more disgusted with myself. I had not been a good friend. Then Jared’s words sank in.
He treasures our friendship?

“Very pleased to know that,” Joe responded with empathy, as if sensing my happiness.

Jared treasures our friendship!

Joe made a grunting noise like he was getting to his feet. “And I’m always pleased to meet an upstanding young gentleman,” he said.

I couldn’t help myself. I had to look. Shielding my face with my shoulder, I peeked at Joe and Jared shaking hands. Words cannot describe what I felt.

Jared introduced himself.

“It’s a pleasure, Jared. Joseph Jackson, but you can call me Joe.”

My jaw dropped, and I jerked my head forward again. Joe had never shared his full name with me before.

“Nice firm handshake. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he shakes your hand, looks you in the eye. Take care of yourself, Jared.”

“Thank you, Joe. You take care, too. Oh, and my friend wanted me to tell you there’s a shelter on Yesler.”

A smile erupted on my face. He’d done it. Jared had kept his word.

“Tell her thank you.”

“I will. See ya, Joe.”

When Jared was out of earshot, Joe said in a hushed voice, “Thank you, Green Eyes. You’re too good to me. For you, I’ll sleep in that shelter tonight, but I tell ya, they’re not as safe as you think.”

Joe had told me this before. He’d been robbed in a shelter in Oklahoma City a few years before, which had soured him to all homeless shelters. Even still, a shelter
had
to be less dangerous than the streets.

“Lookin’ forward to when the weather improves and we can visit again,” Joe continued. “I understand about you not wantin’ me to see your face, so don’t fret about that if you’re tempted to. I like him, Green Eyes. Edgar, I suspect?”

Lacing my fingers, I stretched my arms in the air to let Joe know he had guessed right. “Edgar” was the pseudonym I had given Jared when raving about him.

Joe chuckled. “He’s a fine-lookin’ boy, a trustworthy one . . . I got a feelin’ about him . . .”

“Mission accomplished,” Jared announced, coming up behind me.

Without turning around, just in case Joe was looking, I gushed, “You are
the best
, Jared Wells.”

“And you are
crazy
, Cassidy Jones,” he teased. He appeared at my side, grinning, and yanked my hood over my face. “What’s with the shyness?”

“You know how I am.” I pushed the hood up to look at him.

“Awesome.” He snagged my backpack. “I’m carrying this,” he informed me and started walking.

I didn’t argue.

Twelve

Duplicity

Jared and I parted ways at the stone steps leading to the park below my street.

“See ya, Cass.” He flashed a smile that made every nerve in my body tingle before he descended the steps that led to Spinning Park below. From there, he would cut through the city woods to his mom’s apartment. I spent a lot of time in those woods, in the dead of night, racing around and swinging from tree to tree like a monkey to expel excess energy that built throughout the day. There was no way I could have slept a wink if I hadn’t.

After losing sight of Jared, I crossed the street to Emery’s house. He had texted me to come over on the bus ride home. My stomach was already in knots over what had happened with Riley. Mr. Phillips answering the door didn’t help any.

“Hi, Cassidy,” he greeted with a friendly smile.

Act normal, Cassidy.
“Hi!” My tone was painfully loud, defeating “normal.” “I’m here to work.”

“Yes, I know.” The scumbag seemed amused. “
S’il vous plaît entrer, ma belle fille
.” He pulled the door open, making a sweeping motion with his arm for me to enter.

I didn’t know he could speak French.

Weak in the knees, I entered the foyer, wondering if this deplorable man was a multilinguist like his son. Emery knew seven languages.

“Um, I’m going to the lab to see if Mrs. Phillips needs help,” I told him, not waiting for a response or even looking at him again as I went on my way.

“Sure, thank you,” he called after me, sounding befuddled by my quick retreat.

I felt his eyes on my back as I hurried down the hall to the kitchen. Turning the corner, I paused at the basement door and regained my composure. I realized then that the television was on in the living room. I had been so stressed that I hadn’t heard it right away.

Leroy Ray’s voice boomed through the television: “Mummies, murder, mystery, and mayhem.”

Of course Mr. Phillips is watching Monster Hunters
. A disgusted sneer curved my mouth as I opened the basement door.
I’d want to learn more about what I’d shot, too
.

Closing the door behind me, I rested my forehead against the exposed drywall and shut my eyes, breathing deeply. Against my eyelids, I saw Mr. Phillips’s heartless eyes targeting me, bullets shooting from the Glock’s barrel, shells spitting into the air. Moving my hand to my gut, I recalled the first excruciating impact. It burned, as if a flaming arrow had struck my stomach. If my body hadn’t released a natural analgesic, the pain alone might have done me in.

I hate him
.
I hate him for hurting me and for betraying his wife and son, for betraying all of humankind. He deserves to rot in prison.
My fist pounded the wall.

Emery and Serena stopped talking. I had no idea what they’d been talking about and frankly didn’t care.