“No.” I said sharply. “I don’t know what she told you, but it means nothing. Ramia was a fruit loop, Nat. You know that.”
“Was she?” Natalie asked, suddenly quiet, her eyes intense. “She sat with me, Thad. By the fire, the night before she left. I wished hergood luck on Search, gave her a hug, and when I pulled away, she stared at me, like she was lookingthroughme. ‘Keep your luck,’ she said. ‘You need it. You will lose the one you love, and when you try to save another, she will die. Dead in your bed.” Natalie shivered, twisting her hands. “‘Dead in your bed,’ she told me. Rubbing that stupid bone bracelet! And now the girl is dead! And she diedin my bed!” Natalie’s rising voice now bordered on hysterical, and her hands shook.
Ramia’s singsong voice echoed in my head.Dead in your bed. Open your eyes, Thad. The blind leading the blind. Will you open your eyes?
“Nat—” I faltered, not sure what to say.
Charley gave me a long look, then reached over and clasped Natalie’s hands, holding them steady. “Natalie, I never knew Ramia, but she sounds like a complete whack-a-doo. My nana likes to say that you’ll find what you’re looking for, and no offense, but right now you’re looking for the weird. You’re looking for something to fit her crazy predictions, and if you look hard enough, I guarantee you’ll find it. But it doesn’t make it true. And it doesn’t make you responsible for that girl’s death.” Charley paused. “Besides, it wasn’t your bed.”
Natalie head jerked up.
“It’s just borrowed,” Charley continued. “Temporary, like everything else on Nil. Like your separation from Kevin. You’re just another Nil visitor, living a temporary time-out from home. Nothing here is yours. Not your A-frame, not your bed. So if I were you,” Charley said softly, “I’d let it go. But that’s just me.”
Natalie launched herself into Charley’s arms. “Have I told you lately how glad I am that you were the one who found Kevin’s clothes?”
Me too,I thought, choking up, watching Charley comfort Natalie.And that somehow I found Charley. And that she found me, even the part that had been lost.
In my peripheral vision, a black furball crept into sight. When I saw the paws, I grinned. Burton.
He slunk close enough to shoot me his evil cat eye. “Good to see you too, buddy,” I said, tossing him my last hunk of fish. “I figured you’d turned into a Scooby Snack by now.” Burton hissed, but barely. He snatched up my offering, without hesitation.
“Do you always feed stray cats?” Charley asked. Wiping her eyes, Natalie looked at me curiously.
“Just Burton.”
“Burton?” Charley said.
“Yeah. He hung around long enough that I finally gave him a name. It made him seem less puny.” I watched Burton inhale the fish, then lick his white paws clean. “I doubt he’s got many of his nine lives left. He’s a serious pain in the butt.”
“Uh-huh,” Charley said, in that same tone of voice she uses when she sees through my crap but doesn’t call me out on it. “Sounds like he’s a survivor.” She tossed him a piece of fish.
Burton hissed so loud that Charley jumped back.
“I think he likes you,” I said, grinning at Charley. “But we won’t know for sure until he brings you something dead.”
CHAPTER
38
CHARLEY
DAY 27, MORNING
“Did you let me win?” I gasped. Hands on my hips, I glared at Thad. “Because it felt like you slowed. On purpose.”
“Nope.” Thad looked shocked. “You just had more gas in the tank than I did.”
I studied his expression. “Really,” I said. “I beat you. Running.”
“Seriously.” He nodded. “I think I should’ve eaten two wraps this morning. Or maybe not tossed so much to Burton.” He smiled, but it was weary—like him.
Because now that I looked, Thad was the poster boy for exhausted. Half moons hung under his eyes, and even his sapphire blues looked dull.No wonder, I thought. He’d carried a girl miles back to the City yesterday, along with his pack. We’d all helped, or tried to, but there was no question that Thad did the heavy lifting. Typical Thad, helping everyone but himself, even grumpy cats. With a sinking feeling, I realized he’d looked this tired ever since Rory’s death.
“Well, then,” I said, taking his hand. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
Johan’s team was back, with a new addition. A boy. Tall, thin,and heavily inked, he had quarter-sized holes in his earlobes that I assumed used to hold piercings. His overall look screamed lead singer of a rock band; all he needed was black eyeliner and skinny jeans, but instead he sported a loincloth. He sat by the firepit in an awkward crumple, his pale skin glaringly white where his tattoos weren’t. His ashen face registered one emotion: shock.
Heesham intercepted us halfway to the fire. “S’up, guys. Charley, is it okay if I steal your boy for a minute?”
