Feral (16 page)

At that, she skipped down the stairs, her pigtails bouncing on her shoulders.

Little freak.

Chapter 9

You would’ve thought I was waiting for a hot date.  But the anticipation was
infinitely greater than any boy could’ve engendered.  Today, Mom, Dad and Bennie were delivering the rest of my possessions.  In my excitement, I felt like a wriggling pup, waiting to piddle the moment their arms reached for me.  I planned to bask in glory of their undivided attention.

It had only been two days since I left the comforting bosom of my home, but it felt like two years. 
Aside from the frenetic energy encompassing me, owing to today’s parental visit, I looked like I’ve been through a war.  In part, I had.  Was still.  With Icarus.  With his cousins.  With the freak woman child.  And with my physical and mental state of rest, or lack thereof.

Every night anxiety replayed for me, the perpetual loop of nightmares that
beset my sleep since the attack.  Every night I woke at regular intervals, when my mind could endure no more of the obscene illusions, only to fall back into their hold when I closed my eyes again.

And that was
merely the evening hours.  During the day, my mind swam with thoughts of Peyton’s betrayal.  Marcus’s disappearance.  Alec’s occupation.  My looming transformation.  Icarus’s domineering attitude.  The boy’s childish and immoral wagers.  And last but not the least of my worries, my impending transfer to Rock West.  Monday morning I would enter its hallowed corridors where I would undoubtedly cross paths with Michael Dougherty.  Whew.  Now if that didn’t give me a case of angina or mild IBS, I could handle anything.

As I once again peeked out my bedroom window
, over the driveway, I heard a knock at my bedroom door.  And although I knew it wasn’t my parents, because their car wasn’t parked outside, I was still disappointed when I found Icarus standing at the bottom of my stairs.

“May I come up?”

I shrugged indifferently.  It was his house.

Climbing
the stairs, he shifted a large corrugated box in his arms.  I noticed at this new angle, my mother’s scrawl looped across the side.  The box was labeled ‘winter clothes.’

Comprehension dropped like a lead weight in the pit of my stomach.

“They’re not coming, are they?”

Icarus shook his
head, commiserating.  “I spoke with your parents this morning.  Someone tried to break into their house last night.  They pulled the gutter from the eve below your window.”  Reaching the top of the stairs, he sat my things down, and brushed his hands on the hips of his jeans.  “It might be nothing, Thaleia, but it’s safer for your parents if they keep their distance until we catch this guy.  We don’t know what he’s capable of, and we have to consider the possibility that he could use them to get to you.”

I didn’t think it could get any worse, but that’s what I get for thinking.  I’d asked for it, essentially.  Karma had given me a proverbial kick in the balls and I shook it off
when I should have knocked on wood.  And now it was coming back to bite me in the ass.

“
It’s just a precaution,” Icarus assured.  “And probably needless.  He might not have the calculation to form that kind of plan.”

“You
don’t believe that or you wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“Your parents are taking
safeguards.  They’re having a security system installed this afternoon.  You have nothing to worry about.”

Easier spoken than believed.

In a matter of minutes, and a few simple words, my life officially went from bad to worse.  I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it would take before a person broke.  Because if I had to guess, I was pretty darn close to my breaking point.

“
Do you run?” I inquired.  Crying was getting old.  And I had some pent up angst to burn off before I mentally imploded.  Despite the snot-crying two days ago, I felt like something stronger was brewing.  Something ominous.  So adopting the age-old advice of my mother, I hoped the fresh air would do me good.

“Pardon?”
Icarus responded over his shoulder.  He bent and cut the packing tape from the seam of the box before sliding the blade back into his pocket.

“Run.  Jog. 
I need to get out.  And I can’t go alone.”

After briefly considering, Icarus shrugged. 
“I never considered it a hobby, but I think I can keep up.”

“Good.  Just give me five minutes to find my things.” 
I had only brought a limited selection of clothes and most of my athletic wear was not among them.  I hoped that they had arrived along with the rest of my things.

“There’re
a few more boxes downstairs.  I’ll have the boys carry them up.”

“How
did
you get my stuff?” I asked in afterthought.  If my parents were trying to disassociate themselves from me, Icarus stopping by to pick up my things didn’t correspond with their plan of action.

“Thrift
shop.  Your parents dropped them off yesterday afternoon.  I picked them up this morning.  It was your father’s idea.”

Of course it was.  Dad loves detective novels.  When he isn’t working, he’s
sprawled out on his Lazy Boy with a mug of coffee, reading one.  Sometimes he’d grow so immersed in their pages, he wouldn’t hear a word I said.  I remember telling him once that I’d sprouted a unicorn horn and vomited a rainbow and all he’d said was ‘Uh huh. Wonderful honey.  Make sure you show your mother.’  It was good to know he’d picked up something from the limitless hours of reading.  I could only imagine the schemes he could cook up in his absorbent little mind.

“Detective novels?” Icarus mused.

God, had I said that
aloud
?  Call me Mac, because if I wasn’t crazy yet, I was surely losing it.  If I weren’t careful, I’d find myself strapped to a gurney at Oregon State Hospital.

“I’ll meet you outside,” I said, ignoring him.  I hadn’t forgiven him yet for the humiliating episode in the pantry a few days ago.  Granted
, I’ve been civil to him and his family despite their faults.  But, in truth, I was only being respectful of the money we spent on groceries by not letting them go to waste.  In short, I cooked as agreed, but I left my feelings toward them without question.

Icarus nodded and
trotted down the steps, leaving me to my devices.

It took only ten minutes to skim through my boxes of clothing to find what I needed.  The larger part of that time
, I spent searching for my sneakers within the several boxes of shoes.  I wasn’t exempt to the lure of all things feminine, including Jimmy Choo heels and Prada pumps.

Trotting down the stairs, I pulled my hair into a low ponytail and
resolved to sort through my boxes before starting school Monday morning.  Along with the settee and TV console Icarus purchased for my room, I also received a new dresser and armoire to store my clothes.  For the second time in a week, I supposed it could be worse.  If not for the preposterous spanking and the numerous other undeserved castigations, I might like Icarus.

“Jogging,” said Max, disbelievingly
, snacking on a bag of Doritos.  “Like that?”

Icarus looked his attire once over.  He wore a navy athletic tee with a pair of black sweat pants that had gray graphics running the length of his leg.  “
Yeah, what’s your point?”

“He wasn’t referring to your clothes,” Lucius
castigated.  “And you know it.  We’ve never seen you running on two feet before.”

“
Ah,” said Max, cutting off Icarus’s retort.  Their heads turned in my direction, devouring my three-quarter black leggings and my racer back tee.  The cleavage couldn’t be helped.  My sports bra had done all it could to rein my breasts into athletic conformity.  “Now I get it.”

“Dude, can I come?” pleaded Crispin. 
“I can keep up, I swear!”

“
Me too,” Max agreed, chips forgotten.  He wiped a smear of orange cheese from his lip with the back of his hand.  “Go get changed, Runt, we’re all going.”

“No
you’re not,” Icarus objected.  “You have leaves to rake and bag.  And the bushes around the garage need to be trimmed.  Yard waste day is Monday.”

“But we can do it tomorrow!” Crispin pressed.  “
Besides, it’s not fair if Bacchus and Caius aren’t even here to help!”

Standing firm, Icarus shook his head.  “It’s
supposed to rain tomorrow.  And the twins are at practice.”

“We can do it when we get ba
—”

“You’ll do it now!” Icarus snapped, losing patience.  I felt a moment
’s guilt, witnessing Crispin’s crushed expression.  But there was nothing I could do.  If there was one thing I learned, Icarus didn’t like to be questioned.  And to be honest, I needed the peace that Crispin surely would’ve disrupted.

“Tomorrow,” I said instead.  “Pancakes and fruit smoothies for breakfast.  I’ll teach you how to flip.”  That appeared to do the trick, because Crispin’s frown eased and his eyes lit up.

“Like with a frying pan?”

“To the ceiling.”

“Deal.”

Outside, I took a minute to stretch.  It had been a while since I ran, and the prep felt like foreplay to a long awaited pastime.  I checked my laces and tightened the strap fastening the holster of my Beretta to my side. 
Icarus was staring intently when I turned to face him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”  Fanning his arm out before him, he prompted me to take the lead.  I did, but started at a slow pace, giving myself time to warm up.  Icarus fell into step beside me.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“You would scoff if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“You look seriously hot, yet a little disturbing at the same time.”

I snorted.

“See?  You scoffed.”

“That wasn’t a scoff. 
It was...” a derisive laugh?  “Ok, it was a scoff.  You know, I’ve never used that term before, which is kinda surprising because my family scoffs a lot.”

“I knew you were naturally
disdainful.”

“I think I can attribute at least six sounds to scoffing.”

“I think I’ve heard them all.”

“Pfft.”

Icarus didn’t laugh, but I could see the white of his smile from the corner of my eye.  We fell into pace, our feet falling together in natural rhythm.  For a while, we didn’t talk.  Usually, I would find that relaxing, but today it only allowed my mind to wander.  For a change, I preferred the trivial banter of scoffing over the inner ramblings of my overtaxed brain.

“What did you find disturbing?”

“Your comfort with carrying a firearm.”

“I’ve carried one since I was fifteen.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“So’s rape
and murder.”

“
Touché.”

“I joined track in
tenth grade,” I pushed out between breaths.  “My dad used to run with me in the mornings before school, but when I began to outdistance him, he gave up.  So he gave me the gun and paid for shooting lessons.  I agreed only because I wasn’t allowed to run alone until I completed them.”

Fat
lot of good those lessons did me.  But then they were never intended for my defense against the supernatural.  In any event, I hadn’t carried it with me.  I wasn’t out running at the break of dawn, or after sundown.  I was attending a keg party with my friends.  How was I to know when I left my house that night, I would end up in the woods with my boyfriend mauling on my neck as if it was a raw soup bone?

“We
re you any good?”

“At shooting?”

“I was going to say running, but both now that you mention it.”

“
Well, I’m no Pheidippides.  I mostly did five k marathons.  The longest was a ten k I did in New York, but I quit shortly after that.  Once I began competing seriously, I stopped enjoying it.  I mean, I wasn’t doing it to impress anybody.  My parents didn’t care either way.  I think that’s when I realized that Coach Manse was trying to live vicariously through me.  Or maybe I just resented him when he told me my mom’s smoothies were going straight to my ass.”

“
I speak on behalf of the male population when I say that we’re glad you chose your mom’s smoothies over Coach Manse.”

“Pfft.”

“Seriously, sounds like Coach Manse was an ass.”

So is a certain alpha I know.  The guy was like a yoyo with his
attentions.  One minute he was flirting, the next he had me slung over his knee, tanning my backside.  But I refrained from mentioning that.

“And shooting?”

“A natural, but anyone can hit a stationary target.  How I’d react in real life situation is something different entirely.  I could freeze up.  Or balk at shooting a live person.”

“You wouldn’t freeze up.”

“You sound so sure.”

“I’ve seen you, remember. You stood your ground against a rogue.”

Despite, Icarus’s certainty, I still had my doubts.  I thought I was facing a rabid dog at the time of Marcus’s attack.  In my opinion, it wasn’t the same as looking a man in the eyes and pulling the trigger, knowing definitively that you were about to take his life.