Clearer in the Night (42 page)

I peel half a dozen potatoes before I dare to ask. “What are we doing?”

She shoots me a look like I’m a total idiot. “Making shepherd’s pie, dear. What does it look like we’re doing?”

“How did he find me? In the woods? How did he know where to go?”

She glances at me, then shrugs. “He woke up as soon as your feet hit the floor. He just wanted to know what your intentions were before he interrupted you. He wasn’t ever going to let you face that by yourself. How much did he tell you about our little group?”

“Not a ton. Band of supernatural big bad killers. Mystical magical on and on.”

She laughed. “He does have a flair for the dramatic. It’s simple. When you’ve brushed up against the dark side of the mirror—”

“You see more clearly. Eli said.”

“It’s nice to know he listened at least once. You’ll always know them for who they are, from here on out. Werewolves, vampires, the possessed, the fae; none of them can hide from you. And your other talents make you even more of a potential help.”

“Eli has been through more than just his grandmother dying, hasn’t he?”

“That’s his story to tell,” she says, crisp as an October apple. “You can ask him about it, but you won’t hear a word about it from me, so stop hinting like you know more than you do.”

“Will I see him again?”

“That is entirely up to you.”

I think of the selfish, naive girl that I was two months ago, when I didn’t even know that there were real monsters in the world. I think of how it felt when I understood, when I saved myself. To help others learn to protect themselves—to save someone, here and there. It wouldn’t replace what I’d lost, but it was better than going back to that empty house. “Okay,” I say, trying it out to see how it fit. “Let’s save the world.”

She gives a snort that I never would have heard from a church lady. “First, shepherd’s pie,” she says. “Then, salvation.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rebecca, Ree to her friends, lives with her family in the wilds of New England. She is owned by two cats, and enjoys discovering the various ways that one can enjoy string. She is fueled by coffee, and strong autumn breezes.