Under My Skin (16 page)

Marcus sat at the table, his face zombie blank, his gaze fixated on the small flatscreen TV on the maplewood island. His graying brown hair stuck out in all directions. Bedhead—not out of a jar, but the real thing—and he had on yesterday’s clothes. His once properly ironed white dress shirt had fanlike wrinkles, and grease stains blotched the fabric from our garage mishap.

“Hey, you alive?” I frowned at him. He really looked weirded out. “I thought only anxiety-riddled high school kids had that haggard look down to a science.” I opened the fridge and grabbed a glass pitcher of orange juice.

“Mr. Dacopha, one of the ranchers, called me last night after all the excitement settled down,” Marcus said in a toneless voice, not even looking in my direction. “His son has been missing for days. The chief of police called a press conference this morning and made a plea to the public, asking for anyone with information to contact the station.”

“Mr. Dacopha is one of your rancher clients? The ones Harbinger is trying to scare off their land?”

Marcus nodded. Had Brit mentioned the name Dacopha when she’d showed me the picture of the hockey team at school? What if Logan and Wade were branching out? Recruiting their werewolf army corps from outside Wade’s hockey team? Or even worse—turning the ranchers’ own kids into beasts to scare their parents off their land?

I took a long swig of juice and then clunked the pitcher back down on the rack. The fridge door drifted shut. Plopping down onto one of the island stools, I stared at the TV along with Marcus, but my racing thoughts made it difficult to hear what was said.

As if in a similar state, Marcus lifted the remote and upped the volume. The news camera had focused on the chief. Wade’s father—no, his sire. It weirded me out to see Logan in a twenty-first-century cop uniform, rather than the fedora, long black coat, and shimmering gold badge from my dust bowl dream. But there was no mistaking the vamp who’d turned Wade and forced him to feed off his own mother.

“Our citizens deserve to live their lives in peace,” Logan told Mina Clark, the station’s cute, perky investigative reporter. Only she didn’t look like she was doing much investigating, more like a lot of drooling over Logan. “To settle in Redgrave and raise their children, knowing our town is free of violence. When I get calls from parents concerned for their missing children, I get angry. And that’s a good thing, because with the help of my entire police force, I’ll bring this town under control.” His piercing grey eyes seemed to zero in on me. I squirmed at the impact, the menace in that freaky gaze.

Wasn’t it obvious he wasn’t human? Couldn’t viewers see his plastic-y looking skin, the way his lips twisted in an evil-oozing smile for the flashing cameras at the press conference? He’d bring the town under control all right—his control.

Wade’s mother’s face flashed into my mind, along with her plea,
You’re the only one who can help him…
How did Redgrave’s simple townsfolk stand a chance against Logan, when a witch who could pull me across time thought
I
was her only hope?

Speaking of
witches
, Paige swept into the kitchen, a sour expression on her face as if she’d bitten into her own brand of poisoned apple.

“Your wife is smoking crack if she thinks I’m going to call you guys every two seconds to let you know I’m alive,” she spat at her dad.

I grimaced. Too bad Paige’s observational skills were only fit for clothing brand names and runway lipstick shades. Otherwise she’d have taken one look at Marcus’s rumpled appearance and shell-shocked expression and realized he wasn’t in the mood for a bit of diva-child rebellion.

“Excuse me?” Marcus shoved back his chair and stood in wrinkled glory. “If I ever hear you speaking about your
mother
in that tone again, you’ll be grounded until the day you graduate.” He sniffled, then rubbed at his reddened eyes. “Do I make myself clear?”

Paige’s mouth goldfished open and closed for a few seconds, then she sputtered, “Well, what do you expect?
Mother
tells me I have to check in before I head home from school, when I get home, and every hour, on the hour, when I’m out with friends.” She threw her hands up, her lavish curls bouncing in angry protest. “And you call that living?”

“I call that survival.” Marcus held up his hand, let out a powerful sneeze, and then gestured to the TV. “Watch this, and you’ll see why your mother’s so concerned.” He sat back down with a
thunk
.

“Hey, that’s Wade’s dad.” Paige stared at the screen. She, too, plopped down at the table. “What’s going on?”

Marcus shushed her with a sharp hiss and grabbed a tissue from the box he’d started carrying around the house. He spared my hair a dark glance as he blew his nose.

Feeling even more like an outsider, I retreated a few steps to give him some non-doggy-Eryn breathing room and leaned back against the sink.

“As for the ranchers on the outskirts of town,” Logan said, his fake smile taking up half his face, “I aim to help with their plight. Someone’s been tampering with their crops, their livestock.” He shook his head sadly. “We’re doing everything we can to find the perpetrators.”

For a second the camera focused on Mina Clark’s flushed face. Her glazed eyes fixed on Logan like she was hanging on his every word. And she probably was. The vamp thrall practically emanated from Logan in waves as he charmed the gathered press.

“But the ranchers have made themselves easy pickings for the money grabbers in this town,” he said. “They're grasping at straws, victims of fear. Hiring lawyers, protesting on private property, or taking vigilante stances won’t help the situation.” Logan gave the reporter a rapier grin. “Let’s leave the law enforcement to the police, where it belongs, and let my men do their job. We know how to keep you safe. Count on it.”

The blonde reporter spun to face the camera, her forehead beaded with sweat. “And there you have it, folks,” she said, breathless. “The latest from Redgrave’s only hope of solving the rash of disappearing children and heinous pet slayings, Police Chief Logan Gervais.”

With a sound of disgust, Marcus turned off the TV. “Redgrave’s only hope,” he repeated. “Now, there’s a scary thought.”

Logan’s Jedi mind tricks deflected off Marcus, which meant his soul was pure, not easily swayed by the vampire’s darkness.

Unsurprisingly, his daughter was a different story.

Paige stared at the blackening TV screen and looked forlorn as Logan’s face disappeared. At her father’s words, she jumped up from the table. “Why do you always do that? Every time someone says anything good about Wade or his father, you try to bring them down.” She flipped open a cupboard and slapped a bag of bagels on the counter. “Can’t you see he’s changing things for us, making Redgrave the best place to live in the whole world?”

I rolled my eyes at her dreamy expression. She sounded like she was talking about a beloved cult leader. Creepy. “I get the lawyer comments, thanks to your protest and the very friendly Officer Flutie,” I said, before Paige could continue, “but what did Logan mean by vigilantes?”

Marcus shifted in his chair. “Oh, one of the town’s founding families hated the Gervaises on sight. As soon as he took over as chief of police, Marie Delacroix started showing up at town meetings to warn people about him. Said she’d had a vision.”

Her face in the fridge, Paige snorted.

“A vision?” I prompted, hoping to find out more about the woman who’d raised her sons to be hunters like their father, despite knowing the dangers they’d face.

“You have to know Marie,” Marcus said, clearly at a loss. “She’s different. She graduated a few years before we hit high school, but even then there were rumors. Some said she could see ghosts; others said she could tell the future. Then she married an out-of-towner and they pretty much stayed on their ranch.” He quirked a brow. “You were with her sons last night after you went out to investigate the alleged shotgun sound. Have you met them before?”

I swallowed hard. What should I tell Marcus about Alec and Matt? I shot Paige a quick look. She leaned her elbows on the island countertop, her chin propped in her hands, a smirk on her face and waited for my response as well. What had she seen between me and Alec last night?

I answered with a casual shrug, “Yeah, I’ve seen them around.”

Marcus held my gaze for a moment before continuing. “Well, the town’s blamed the Delacroix family for years. For everything from droughts in the summer to rainy springs drowning their crops. Now the police are in on it, saying the Delacroix are responsible for the attacks, acting as vigilantes against Harbinger.” He caught the bagel Paige tossed to him and began to slice it. “It’s common knowledge the Delacroix don’t want the town to expand, that they’re resistant to increasing the town’s population. But who could accuse that family of attacking house pets or kidnapping children to make their point? It’s ludicrous.”

It certainly was.

Alec’s family had been taking the blame for all the freaky stuff going on in Redgrave. Sure the Delacroix were hunters and had thick
I’m-in-the-paranormal-know
skin, but were they ready for an old-fashioned witch hunt? With the police force pointing its corrupt, black-nailed vamp fingers in their direction?

“Morning.” Breezing into the kitchen, Sammi gave everyone a brilliant smile. She poured herself some coffee while killing looks from Paige glanced off her as if she was wearing steel armor instead of a pastel yellow sweater with dancing white lambs. She eyed the bag of bagels and the large serrated bread knife resting beside it. It sat closer to me, but she shot me a quick glance and snatched the knife before I could hand it to her.

“I’ll get breakfast started.” She deftly halved a bagel and tossed it into the toaster. “You want one, Eryn?”

Every time I got within reach of a knife—Sammi pulled this stuff, with the frantic look, then the tearing it away from my immediate range. “Yeah, thanks, but I
can
handle sharp instruments without the urge to slice and dice, Sammi.”

The McCains were well informed on my previous cutting obsession, thanks to the shrink reports they’d asked for when I’d moved to Redgrave. But Sammi was the worst at dealing with it, always hiding cutlery in case I had a setback. Her übervigilance made my nerves fizzle like a mouthful of Pop Rocks.

She didn’t respond to the sarcasm in my voice, which didn’t surprise me. Sammi tended to ignore outbursts. She did work with five-year-olds all day. I watched her wipe down the blade and carefully return it to the wooden knife rack.

“You know, I shave my legs with a razor every morning. Plenty of opportunity there.” I forced a laugh when she cringed at my sharp tone.

“You shave?” Paige glanced sideways at me. “Why bother? It’s not like you’ll ever have a boyfriend. The guys in this town aren’t interested in beanpole headcases.”

Unfortunately, Sammi and Marcus had been kind enough to inform Paige of my history as well, thinking she’d look out for me like a big sister or something. You could kill with that kind of kindness.

“At least I don’t have a white moustache.” I touched the hairless skin of my upper lip, ripe with the knowledge that Paige had tossed an empty box of facial bleach in the bathroom garbage bin.

Paige’s eyes bulged.

“That’s enough!” Sammi slammed a pot down on the counter. Everyone jumped and gaped at her. Sammi never yelled. And she never made a scene.

Sammi sighed and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. When she spoke again, her voice had resumed its usual relaxed tone. “Let’s use our inside voices, girls. It’s a new day, and we don’t want to start with shouting and tearing our hair out, now do we? I was only trying to help you, Eryn, to fix you a nice breakfast. I didn’t mean anything when I grabbed the knife. Honest.” She shrugged. “But maybe I am guilty of trying too hard.”

I hated the hurt look in her eyes. And I’d put it there. Not cool. Ashamed, I glared down at my plain, naked bagel.

“There’s cream cheese in here if you want some.” Sammi reached for the fridge door, still trying, still reaching for
me
.

That made me feel even worse.

“Yummy, yummy…you can’t resist cream cheese.” Sammi held up the plastic container, waving it at me.

My stomach growled.

“Thanks.” I took the container from her and swiped Marcus’ knife off his plate. He gave me a distracted wink. Who knew if he’d even heard our spat? I slathered a heart-stopping amount of cream cheese on my bagel.

Paige watched with a sneer.

We ate breakfast in silence. Luckily, we all ate super fast.

A few minutes later Sammi headed to the front door, her arms overflowing with art supplies, glue, water-based paints, and brushes. “It’s papier-mâché day at school, so I have to get there early to set up.” She gave Marcus a pointed look and dropped a piece of purple construction paper on the table in front of him. “Eryn, we have a few new rules around here as I was telling Paige. Your uncle will give you the fine details.”

The door slammed shut behind her.

Marcus made a face. “She always makes me the bad guy.” He picked up the paper. “Okay, girls, this is how it’s going to be around here from now on…” He read:

1. Call and check in at home—a lot.
(We couldn’t call Sammi too much.)

2. Call 9-1-1 if anything suspicious happens
(a.k.a., don’t go kicking in doors.
Not that Paige would ever think of such a thing. Why ruin a perfectly good pedicure?)

3. Failure to comply with these and any other rules will result in grounding until graduation.

4. Paige must drive Eryn to and from school. No more walking home alone.

*****

“What?” Paige shrieked at that last one. She clearly missed the whole
the family’s in danger
part of Marcus’s little rules speech. “It’s not bad enough that she goes to my school? Now I have to drive her around? Like one of those, those
car driver
people?” She paused dramatically. “I’m sorry, is there an
I’m such a loser I have to drive my reject cousin to school because my parents are suddenly way overprotective
sign on my forehead?”