The remainder of the trip is quiet. When we reach Main Street, Dad parks hood-to-hood with my car, turns off his engine without a word, and steps out to grab the cables from the back. I brace for our inevitable confrontation.
Dad knows me, probably better than anyone. He can spot my bullshit a mile away, and I can spot his as well. Whereas Mom ignores the signs, Dad is attuned to them.
Rustling leaves break the silence as I open the passenger side door. The jewelry shop across the street has yellow no-crossing tape across its broken display windows. Closed signs mark many of the stores, and the places that are still open have scarce clientele. It’s mainly people I recognize, those who work here.
It’s early.
There will be more visitors later.
I hope.
Taking a nervous breath, I unlock my car and test the engine. The station wagon starts, of course, she does. I let her run, proving my guilt, as I step out of the vehicle and apologize. “I must have been mistaken last night. My car’s fine.”
He crosses his arms and just looks at me, and I’m convinced he’s about to chew me out. Waiting for it is almost worse than experiencing it.
“Adrien gives you the creeps,” he says.
At first, I’m not sure if I heard him correctly. When the words register, I’m relieved. “Yes.”
The buzz of my engine mutes our words. It’s my chance to warn him. Unfortunately, every explanation that flits across my mind makes me sound crazier than the last. Dad isn’t a superstitious man, and until recently, neither was I. He’d want to get to the bottom of my sudden change in views. He’d dissect it like a frog in science class, convincing me that the world is one-dimensional. Telling him would only make me feel crazier.
Besides, if I tell the truth and hebelievedme, he’d throw me in his truck and drive me far, far away. It would make matters worse. I don’t even know what my brands mean.
“I get a bad vibe from him. I don’t think he’s a good person. Just stay away from him—for me.” I rub my face and adjust my glasses. “I think he’s connected to everything happening in town, and I know that sounds ridiculous. Please,pleasedon’t invite him over again. Even Oyster doesn’t like him.”
Dad’s brows furrow. “He does have one fucking creepy smile.”
I wrap my arms around my middle. “It’s… just a feeling. Call it a woman’s intuition. I’ll be safe at the museum, people are always walking by outside. I will call you throughout the day.”
“You’ll ring me if he shows up?”
“It’ll be the first thing I do.”
He sighs, suddenly appearing tired. “When did you become so passionate about the museum? It’s antiques and junk in there. That’s what you’ve always told us.” His gaze skirts toward the building’s facade, two buildings away. “Do you want me to check the leak?”
“I can handle it. And I’ve always been passionate about the museum.” It’s another lie. “I’m not having any luck with getting any interviews. And so I’m… reevaluating.”
His face twitches, his doubt evident. “I trust you, Summer, I do. You’re a smart girl. Just don’t be an idiot, okay? I raised you better than that. Hopkins’ Museum isn’t going to be your meal ticket out of this town. It’s more likely to keep you here instead.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“And don’t go pulling the shit you did last night. I don’t know how your mother will handle it. We’re worried.”
“Okay,” I agree, giving him an empty promise.
He gives me one last lingering look before patting my shoulder awkwardly. “If you don’t call, I’m calling the police. Consider this a warning.” He collects his cables and returns to his truck.
When he’s gone, I swallow my guilt and turn for the museum, narrowing my attention on the task at hand—I need to talk to Zuriel.
Reaching up, I rub my itching brands.
Chapter14
All Cats Recognize Demons
Summer
My brands are unusually warm.I rub my chest fervently, glancing around. There’s nobody; I’m still alone. With my hand over my chest, I suspect this is more than paranoia. I eye the distance to the museum, only two buildings down…
