tattered rug in the hall.
There was a notebook on a table next to the couch. She opened it to the first page.
Seth had been practicing his handwriting. His name was written on it in a dozen different sizes, with the occasional backwards letter. Seth and Abel had been kept out of school for most of their childhoods. He’d had to teach himself to read and write.
She closed the notebook again.
A breeze fluttered through the curtains, and the faint smell of flowers reached her. It smelled like roses.
Had there been any roses outside?
“Weird,” Rylie muttered, following the faint smell of flowers outside.
It was the wrong time of year for anything to be blossoming. The only thing growing in the flower beds were weeds and grass.
Rylie circled around the back.
There was that flower smell again. It caught her nose, and she turned to look for the source in the trees.
And then she heard it—the crunch of feet on fallen leaves.
Rylie turned too late.
Something whistled through the air and connected with the back of her skull. Stars flashed in her periphery. Her vision faded at the edges.
She hit the ground. Dirt impacted her cheek and nose.
Her head swam, and Pagan’s shuffling footsteps sounded distorted, as though she heard it through rippling water.
Rylie was stunned, but the wolf wasn’t.
Move.
She rolled onto her side. An instant later, a silver knife whistled through the air and plunged into the dirt where she had been laying.
Pagan jerked it free of the ground.
Rylie turned inward, focusing on her wolf. Help me!
Something buried deep in the wolf’s instincts recognized Pagan’s black irises, the pale skin, the sour smell.
The demon swung the knife again. The wolf lifted Rylie’s forearm to protect her face, and Pagan’s wrist struck her on the elbow.
Rylie lifted her feet, planted them in Pagan’s stomach, and kicked.
Her attacker soared through the air. Struck the tree with a cry. Dry leaves showered around them.
Rylie rolled onto all fours, and her hands were bloody. It wasn’t an injury—her fingernails had fallen out when she wasn’t paying attention. They had already been replaced by fresh, glistening claws.
Pagan lunged for her, and Rylie swiped. Her claws raked through the air.
The demon leaped out of the way just in time.
But the wolf anticipated that, just as it anticipated that she would attack again from the left. Her eyes and the tension in her muscles gave her away.
Rylie drove her elbow into Pagan and threw her to the ground.
The demon didn’t attempt another attack. Her eyes focused on something in the distance.
“Cain! Help!” Pagan shouted.
Cain ?
Rylie turned. But before she could see who was attacking, something struck the back of her skull, in the same tender spot that Pagan had beaten earlier.
She blacked out before she hit the ground.
Seth wandered through the house alone, gazing at everything his family had left behind.
The front bedroom had belonged to Abel, and there were no toys in it—even as a child, he had been more interested in knives and handguns. His bed had plain sheets. The walls were bare.
How many hours had the brothers spent in that room, making up stories and wrestling on the floor? He couldn’t begin to count them.
The next bedroom had belonged to Seth. It was barely bigger than a closet, but it had been his kingdom. The only place he was safe when his parents argued.
He didn’t open the door to look inside.
Seth went to his mom’s bedroom and stood in the doorway.
Once, Eleanor had thrown him over that chair in the corner and whipped him when he made a mistake.
Then there was the time she punched a hole in the wall when she was aiming for his head. It used to be hidden by a desk, but that piece of furniture was gone now. The hole remained.
Her straightening iron was on the table under the window—he didn’t even want to remember what she had done with that.
Yet those were still the friendliest features of the room.
Eleanor
There was a notebook on a table next to the couch. She opened it to the first page.
Seth had been practicing his handwriting. His name was written on it in a dozen different sizes, with the occasional backwards letter. Seth and Abel had been kept out of school for most of their childhoods. He’d had to teach himself to read and write.
She closed the notebook again.
A breeze fluttered through the curtains, and the faint smell of flowers reached her. It smelled like roses.
Had there been any roses outside?
“Weird,” Rylie muttered, following the faint smell of flowers outside.
It was the wrong time of year for anything to be blossoming. The only thing growing in the flower beds were weeds and grass.
Rylie circled around the back.
There was that flower smell again. It caught her nose, and she turned to look for the source in the trees.
And then she heard it—the crunch of feet on fallen leaves.
Rylie turned too late.
Something whistled through the air and connected with the back of her skull. Stars flashed in her periphery. Her vision faded at the edges.
She hit the ground. Dirt impacted her cheek and nose.
Her head swam, and Pagan’s shuffling footsteps sounded distorted, as though she heard it through rippling water.
Rylie was stunned, but the wolf wasn’t.
Move.
She rolled onto her side. An instant later, a silver knife whistled through the air and plunged into the dirt where she had been laying.
Pagan jerked it free of the ground.
Rylie turned inward, focusing on her wolf. Help me!
Something buried deep in the wolf’s instincts recognized Pagan’s black irises, the pale skin, the sour smell.
The demon swung the knife again. The wolf lifted Rylie’s forearm to protect her face, and Pagan’s wrist struck her on the elbow.
Rylie lifted her feet, planted them in Pagan’s stomach, and kicked.
Her attacker soared through the air. Struck the tree with a cry. Dry leaves showered around them.
Rylie rolled onto all fours, and her hands were bloody. It wasn’t an injury—her fingernails had fallen out when she wasn’t paying attention. They had already been replaced by fresh, glistening claws.
Pagan lunged for her, and Rylie swiped. Her claws raked through the air.
The demon leaped out of the way just in time.
But the wolf anticipated that, just as it anticipated that she would attack again from the left. Her eyes and the tension in her muscles gave her away.
Rylie drove her elbow into Pagan and threw her to the ground.
The demon didn’t attempt another attack. Her eyes focused on something in the distance.
“Cain! Help!” Pagan shouted.
Cain ?
Rylie turned. But before she could see who was attacking, something struck the back of her skull, in the same tender spot that Pagan had beaten earlier.
She blacked out before she hit the ground.
Seth wandered through the house alone, gazing at everything his family had left behind.
The front bedroom had belonged to Abel, and there were no toys in it—even as a child, he had been more interested in knives and handguns. His bed had plain sheets. The walls were bare.
How many hours had the brothers spent in that room, making up stories and wrestling on the floor? He couldn’t begin to count them.
The next bedroom had belonged to Seth. It was barely bigger than a closet, but it had been his kingdom. The only place he was safe when his parents argued.
He didn’t open the door to look inside.
Seth went to his mom’s bedroom and stood in the doorway.
Once, Eleanor had thrown him over that chair in the corner and whipped him when he made a mistake.
Then there was the time she punched a hole in the wall when she was aiming for his head. It used to be hidden by a desk, but that piece of furniture was gone now. The hole remained.
Her straightening iron was on the table under the window—he didn’t even want to remember what she had done with that.
Yet those were still the friendliest features of the room.
Eleanor
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