Page 6

“Well, that explains it. I think. What are you up to?”

“I’m talking myself into walking to the corner market for some salad fixings. How about you?”

“I’ve got paperwork to finish, then I’m having a drink with that physical therapist. I think there are some really erotic massages in my future.”

“I think you’ve been reading a lot of misinformation about physical therapists. Well, this conversation started weird and ended weirder so goodbye. I’m hungry. See you later.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

It was hot enough to turn on the drip hose in the garden. The big sunflower heads were drooping now, not just from seeds but from heat. I changed into shorts and sandals and headed out to the garden. Three lizards met me at the spigot. “You guys thirsty, too?” Paxton always teased me about talking to my garden lizards, but I’d always had an undeniable connection to them. There were dozens in my garden, all fat and happy.

The stifling heat of the day had finally been pushed out by an early evening breeze. Still, most of the neighbors were inside their homes as air conditioners rumbled away. My humble cottage didn’t have air, but if I opened the windows after the sun went down, it was more than tolerable inside.

The corner market was four blocks from my house. Sam, the owner, was one of the few people I chatted with occasionally. My mom was gone by the time he opened his shop, but he knew Raina well. In fact, he had a crush on her. He was very sad when she left. But not as sad as I was, especially considering she left as suddenly as she’d arrived. She showed up the day my mom died. I was young and overwhelmed with grief, so I never questioned it. Raina was gentle and had a motherly smile. No better person could have filled the horrible, dark void left behind by my mother’s death. Then I woke up on my eighteenth birthday anxious to taste the chocolate chip pancakes Raina had promised me. The stack of delicious pancakes sat on the table along with a brief note telling me to enjoy the day and to be safe. I never heard from her again. For days I considered that she’d just been a figment of my imagination all those years. The only thing she’d left behind aside from the memories was a stack of handwritten recipe cards. I kept them safely in a drawer but never touched them, for fear that my only proof of her existence would disappear, too.

An empty lot stretched between a small park, complete with a swing and slide, and the local cemetery. It was from the turn of the last century. On a silly and macabre mission, Mom and I had once walked through it to find the last person buried there, and a Mrs. Louise Plunkett who died in November of 1899 won the honor. The owner of the empty lot sandwiched between the park and cemetery had tried to sell it for years, but no one wanted to build a house that overlooked a crop of crooked tombstones. The locals decided to plant the empty lot with citrus trees. In late fall, the trees were brimming with lemons and oranges. Today, they were decked out in tiny green unripe fruit, but they still smelled citrusy.

Sam’s shop smelled of onions and fresh strawberries when I walked inside. He was making a customer a sandwich. He sold them on summer evenings when it was too hot to cook. He looked up from his cutting board. “Evening, Raphael. I’ve got some fresh strawberries in.”

“Yes, I can smell them. Thank you.” I picked a basketful of greens and tomatoes and dropped in a cucumber for good measure. I added in some of the ripe red strawberries.

Sam was waiting at the checkout counter with his familiar smile and his usual question. “Heard anything from Raina?”

I offered him my usual response. A sad headshake. He never prodded after that.

“Sure was a hot one today,” Sam said. Raina and weather were our usual topics.

“Sure was.” I filled my shopping bag with my salad goodies and waved goodbye.

The day had been long and unpleasant, but I looked forward to a quiet evening with a delicious salad and a book. I strolled past the cemetery. It was rarely visited. The people buried there had been gone so long, most of their families had either died off or moved away. Occasionally I spotted a fresh bouquet of flowers at a gravesite, but not today.

I gasped when a cat shot out from the citrus grove, nearly tripping me. His gray striped hair stood straight up on his back. He raced across the street and disappeared behind some shrubs. I took a deep breath and continued on my way. The branches of an orange tree vibrated. I theorized that another cat was hiding inside it, smiling triumphantly that he’d chased off the other guy. I stepped off the sidewalk into the grove. “You certainly told him,” I called up through the branches. “His hair won’t flatten down for hours.”

A scream strangled in my throat as a large, rough hand grabbed my arm. My first instinct was to whip around my bag of groceries. He snatched the bag from my hand and threw it down. The smell of wet earth and sweat and anger pierced through the terror that had turned my muscles to stone. I froze until the shock of what was happening cleared and adrenaline surged through me. My attacker pulled me around behind a tree, so we wouldn’t be seen. I felt like a scrap of gossamer fabric in his massive hands. I wriggled as hard as I could and kicked back, but my feet struck thick leather boots. I swung my fists wildly trying to hit something, anything. He easily swept both my wrists into one hand. He spun me around so quickly, another scream caught in my throat. His head was shaved on each side, and a long black braid hung down the middle of his back. His eyes were a deep amber. I gasped. They were familiar. Like the ones staring back at me in Dante Fell. Only this time from a man’s face.

“Let me go.” I squirmed as hard as I could.

A mean chuckle turned up his lip, exposing two sharp canines. I leaned back away from the carnivorous teeth and managed to land a solid kick on his shin. He barely flinched.

“Stop your squirming, little kitten.” He shook me once, so hard it made my head snap back and my teeth clack together. “All this fuss over such a slip of a thing. You don’t know the trouble you’ve caused.”

“I don’t know you, and you don’t know me,” I said all while trying futilely to get free of his iron grasp.

“Sure, I do. You’re Sassa Willow’s offspring, right?”

I blinked back at him, confused. My head was spinning with the shock of what was happening. I kept hoping I’d pop out of a glitch and be safely home eating my salad. “Who are you?”

He grinned again, lifted my hands up and looked me brazenly up and down. “Yeah, you’re Sassa’s. I’d recognize those eyes and those curves anywhere.”

My fear was slowly being replaced by anger. I kicked him again, harder this time. He flinched but only slightly. “Getting a little tired of you kicking me, kitten. Now let’s go.” He moved to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder.

“No, don’t touch me! How do you know my mom?” I dug my heels in, but I was a like a strand of cotton candy in a rainstorm. I didn’t stand a chance against him.

“I’m not going!” I tried the “knee to nuts” move, one I’d watched being performed on YouTube. It took more planning than I thought. I landed my knee against a rock-hard thigh.

“I’m done playing games with you, kitten.”

A shadow flew over us, and the branch above his tall head shook. We both stared up into the citrus leaves. A large black raven stared down at us with shiny black eyes.