Thrall (Daughters Of Lilith) Read online

  When I turned back, both Derek and the newcomer were gone. I edged closer to the table, scanning the area, but couldn’t spot even a glimmer of that silver dress. I scooped the clutch up, grabbed a fistful of napkins, and retreated back to Cassie and Royal.

  “She returns,” Royal said, eying my haul. “With enough napkins for an army.”

  “Thanks for trying to cream Derek for me,” Cassie said. “Sorry about your dress. I’ll make it up to you.”

  “You want to make it up to me?” I asked. “Grab a napkin. I prefer red velvet in my mouth, not in my hair.” Royal and Cassie grabbed some napkins and started cleaning bits of frosting and cupcake out of my hair.

  Royal turned his attention to a clump of frosting on my shoulder and grinned. “Standing up to the soccer jocks. Who knew you had it in you?”

  “What are the odds he’ll forget about it and leave me alone on Monday?”

  “About the same as a bull not charging for the flapping red cape,” Royal answered. “Olé, my little matador.”

  “This is not comforting,” I said.

  Cassie giggled.

  The music faded. We turned back to the dance floor as people began clearing a space for Headmaster Fiedler. Time for the annual ritual of announcing the Homecoming Court.

  “Amber is finally getting the crown to match her attitude.” Royal’s tone was sour. “Don’t ever let them tell you it doesn’t pay to be evil.”

  On stage, Fiedler held his hands up for silence. “Coronado Prep, it gives me great pleasure to announce your Homecoming Court! Ally Krect and Parker Webb!”

  A spotlight flooded the double-entrance to the gym as Ally and Parker emerged. Ally beamed in the spotlight. She was oblivious to Parker who was squinting in irritation at the glare. They arrived at the stage and Fiedler placed a tiara on Ally’s head. She adjusted it quickly, then her hand shot up in victory. The gym roared with approval.

  Fiedler gestured back to the gym entrance. “Missy Jefferson and Dan Buchannan!” More wild cheers as Missy and her date emerged. Missy looked pleased and a little embarrassed by the screaming. She hustled Dan through the crowd and accepted the tiara from Fiedler with a quick smile and wave. Fiedler gestured and the music changed. Everyone turned as a spotlight snapped onto the far gym doors, sparkling with the half-ton of glitter the Dance Committee had covered them in. “And now for your Homecoming Queen and King...”

  Royal sighed with distaste. “I hope he trips and breaks his neck.”

  “It’s a little early, but I do have a birthday wish coming,” I said.

  Royal pretended to consider this idea for a moment before dismissing it. “Mm... Save it for something important.”

  The screaming built as Fiedler threw his arm toward the waiting doors. “Amber Jenkins and Derek Hall!”

  The glittering doors opened. Amber emerged into the spotlight. Alone.

  “Huh. He missed his big entrance.” Cassie wasn’t the only one craning her head for a better look at Amber. Amber forced a smile and headed toward the stage. You could practically feel the fury radiating off of her as she passed.

  Royal shrugged. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and Amber will skin Derek alive.”

  I found myself glancing back at the refreshment table. Something tugged at my conscience, but I brushed it off. I told myself Derek was Derek, and he’d clearly made his choice. Why should I care if it landed him in hot water?

  Looking back, I think some part of me sensed things were about to go terribly, terribly wrong.

  Chapter 2

  Monday morning dawned soft and cold, as if the day was as reluctant to wake up as I was. I closed my eyes, burrowing further under the comforting weight of my blankets. Someone knocked on my bedroom door.

  “Rise and shine, pumpkin. I’m making breakfast.” Dad could be aggressively chipper in the morning. I pulled a pillow over my head. There was another knock on the door. Chipper and relentless. “You awake in there?”

  “Yes,” I said, tossing the pillow aside. “I’m awake.”

  “Excellent. See you in ten.”

  I yawned and rolled out of bed. My feet found their way into slippers and I headed for my closet. It was a small walk-in, but all of my clothes fit pretty comfortably on one side. I didn’t have Royal’s interest in buying clothes, or Cassie’s talent for making them. I pulled a burgundy skirt and a white button-up shirt off their hangers.

  As I got dressed, my eyes strayed to the other half of the closet. It was a history, in objects, of my life to date. Old shin guards from my one season trying soccer. A few pink and white tutus Dad bought for the handful of recitals I danced in. A stack of sheet music I’d learned over seven years of piano lessons. And here it was, sophomore year of high school, and I still hadn’t demonstrated a natural talent for anything. Of course, getting good at anything takes practice and hard work. I knew that. I had just never found anything I was so excited about that it seemed worth the effort it would take to master it.

  I grabbed my gray Coronado Prep sweater from a hook and turned off the closet light.

  As I ran a brush through my hair, my reflection stared back at me from the little mirror hanging over my dresser. If I had to pick one word to describe myself, I would probably say ‘average.’ Tall and skinny, mousy brown hair, pale skin. I had the kind of nice-but-not-exceptional face that never earned any double takes, unless you saw my eyes. The irises were shot through with colors that ranged from sky to a blue so deep it looked almost purple. My dad had brown eyes and brown hair, so whoever my mother was, these startling eyes must have come from her.

  When I was little, maybe three or four, I had this sudden epiphany that other kids had a dad and a mom. So I asked Dad where my mom was. He got quiet for a long moment, and then he was explaining how sometimes people have to leave us - even if they don’t want to - and sometimes they can’t come back. When I said I didn’t understand, Dad said I would in time. And that’s all he would say about her. If he had any pictures of her, he wasn’t sharing them. He never said it, but I got the impression that she died giving birth to me. Whenever I brought her up, I could see the pain in his eyes. Over the years, I must have asked thousands of questions about her, but Dad always deflected them. I never stopped wondering who she had been, or if she’d known me long enough to love me.

  The acrid scent of burning batter pulled me downstairs. Morning light flooded into the kitchen. Of all the rooms in our house, I loved this one the best. It was open and inviting. From the kitchen you could see through the dining room to the gorgeous picture window taking up most of the far wall. The cabinets were a rich oak wood and the Spanish tile floor was a warm terracotta. There was something comforting about the combination.

  Dad stood in the dining room, lost in his own world, absently setting the table. He was an interesting mix of rough and refined. He owned a company that handled security systems for homes and businesses. Although he was a businessman, to me he never seemed entirely at ease in a suit. His short brown hair was speckled through with gray, but he moved with the muscular ease of a guy who looked like he’d be more comfortable in a fight than an office. At forty-two, he kept himself fit, although he was starting to get a little bit of a belly.

  Dad’s given name was Alan, but he preferred it when people called him Murphy. I think that might have been a hold over from his soldier days, but he didn’t talk about them much. Whenever I asked about that part of his life he changed the subject. Whatever he’d seen or done, it must have been bad enough that he wanted to protect me from it. He wanted to protect me from all the grim things in this world.

  I looked around for the source of the burning smell. A perfect stack of golden pancakes sat on a plate, ready for the table. Next to them, another pair of pancakes smoked on the griddle, forgotten. I grabbed a spatula and quickly flipped the burning pancakes onto an empty plate. “Hey, Iron Chef. I think your pancakes are done.”

  Dad looked up, startled. “Oh, no.” He joined me at the griddle, frowning at the ruined
pancakes. Pancakes were one of his specialties. “That’s what I get for daydreaming.”

  “At least there were only two casualties,” I offered. “The rest look amazing.”

  Dad kissed the top of my head and handed me the plate of golden pancakes. “We should eat before they get too cold. Grab the orange juice, would you?”

  I pulled a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and poured two glasses. “So what’s the special occasion?”

  “Who said there was a special occasion?” he asked. “Why can’t a dad just decide to cook a questionably nutritious breakfast for the apple of his eye?”

  I followed Dad into the dining room and sat at the table. He set a plate in front of me. A few pats of butter melted into creamy puddles on top of the golden pancakes. Exactly the way I like them, just butter, no syrup. They smelled fantastic. My stomach rumbled eagerly. I took a bite. They were delicious - light and fluffy with a hint of cinnamon. “Mmmmm.”

  Dad’s eyes twinkled at my reaction. “Bon appetite.”

  I took another bite and savored it. Dad watched me. His own plate of pancakes sat before him, untouched. I glanced at the kitchen clock. “Aren’t you going to be epically late to work?”

  “They can manage without me for one morning,” he said. “How is it possible that you’re almost sixteen years old?”

  He said this so wistfully that I laughed. “Dad, I’m still the same me.”

  “Well, the government disagrees with you. Apparently they only make these appointments...” He slid a piece of paper onto the middle of the table. “...for mature young people ready to take on the responsibilities of legal drivers.” I saw the New Mexico MVD logo. My official driver’s license application.

  “The same me, but also mature, law-abiding, and totally responsible!” I said, snatching up the application. After all the driver’s ed classes and supervised practice in Dad’s truck, I was finally going to get my actual license. “When do we get the car back?”

  “In a week or two,” he said. He was letting me drive his old Firebird. It had been sitting in the storage garage in our back yard for years, so he’d sent it out for a tune-up. It was kind of a rust-bucket, with cracked seats and a layer of grime it would take hours to scrub off the dashboard. But it was still a car, and in a few weeks it would be my car.

  “I’ve got the perfect stickers for the back window already picked out.”

  Dad smiled. “Mature responsibility is a good look for you.”

  I glanced up, sensing my opportunity. “Speaking of growing up... Maybe this year, since it’s my sixteenth and everything, Cassie and Royal and I could celebrate my birthday at the Raven?”

  Dad actually choked on a bite of pancake and had to wash it down with a swig of coffee. “The club?”

  “They have an underage section and it’s totally cool. It’s not like we can get into any trouble. Please, Dad?”

  “Hang on. First of all, you’re turning sixteen, not twenty-one. I don’t think a club...”

  “Wait, just... would you think about it before you say no?”

  Dad frowned, but after a moment - and very reluctantly - he nodded.

  “Thank you!”

  Dad arched an eyebrow. “I’ll think about it.”

  I took another bite of pancake, envisioning the look on Royal and Cassie’s faces if Dad actually said yes.

  “Oh, honey, could you come straight home after school today?” My mouth was too full to ask, but he saw the question in my eyes and answered me. “Just a couple of things we need to talk about. And if someone delivers a package, don’t open it. I special-ordered something for your birthday and it should be arriving soon.”

  I swallowed. “Mmm. This special-order thing intrigues me. What’s the talk about? Notice how I caught that little ‘distract her with the present’ thing you did?”

  Dad drained the last of his coffee and ruffled my hair, something he hadn’t done for a couple of years. “As usual, your gift of perception awes and amazes me. Look, nothing to worry about. It’s just that you’re growing up now, and there are some things we need to...”

  I clamped my hands over my ears. “Agh! LA LA LA LA LA! If this is the sex talk, you should know that they covered all the pertinent stuff in health class, so... you know... no potentially mutually emotionally scarring father-daughter talk necessary.”

  “Right.” Dad leaned back in his chair, amused. At that moment, we saw Royal’s car pull into our driveway out the bay window. Dad stood, finishing his coffee. “After school, okay? Don’t keep your friends waiting.”

  I ate the last bite of pancake off my plate, then stood and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll clean up when I get home.” I hurried out the front door, scooping up my school bag on the way out.

  Fall mornings in the high desert can be bracing. I took a breath and shivered. It must have rained last night; an unusual humidity gave the air an extra bite. I drew my sweater tighter around me as I walked out of the house. Pretty soon I’d need to start wearing my winter coat again. Our house had a wide front porch (Dad called it our portico) framed by hand-carved wooden pillars. It had been built in the 1930s in the old New Mexico Territorial style. Our front door and window grids were all painted a pale turquoise, which stood out dramatically against the sand-colored stucco of the house’s exterior. The windows were still framed with the original Victorian details and painted a dark chocolate brown. There was something that felt handcrafted about our home. Lived-in. Safe.

  Royal’s convertible idled in the driveway. Cassie was already sitting in the back seat, waiting for me.

  Royal gestured over my shoulder. “Looks like you’ve got new neighbors.”

  I followed Royal’s gaze to the house next door. We lived in a pretty little neighborhood. Like ours, most of the houses on our street had been built in the 1930s. I didn’t know a lot about the Great Depression other than what they cover about the dust bowl in school, but I knew that Puerto Escondido had become a center for artists under the New Deal. Because some of those artists built up our neighborhood, a lot of homes on our street were registered as historical landmarks. Most of them were meticulously maintained.

  The glaring exception was the house just to the left of ours. It would be charitable to call it an ‘eyesore.’ It had stood, empty and neglected, for as long as I could remember. But Royal was right. A moving van was parked on its cracked front drive. I turned back to Royal.

  “Wow. Someone actually bought that crap hole?”

  Royal’s eyes widened a fraction. “Uh...”

  I was too mystified to read the warning in his face. “I thought the city condemned that place. I heard the roof collapsed. How cracked do you have to be to move into a roofless deathtrap?”

  Someone spoke behind me. His voice was quiet but warm. “I can think of worse things than falling asleep under the stars.”

  I clamped my mouth shut, mortified. Royal smiled helplessly; the damage was already done. I cleared my throat, doing my best to salvage the moment. “Stars. Sure. Now that you mention it, I can see how that would be...” I turned to face my new neighbor. When I saw him, I almost lost my train of thought. “Kind of... romantic.”

  He stepped out from behind an overgrown hedge at the edge of the property. He couldn’t have been much older than me, but there was something about him that made him seem infinitely more experienced - a gravity in his eyes, like he’d been living with a deep pain. He had an athlete’s build and dark hair that fell across his face, long enough to cover his eyes. He brushed a lock back and I found myself staring. His eyes seemed to shift colors between light green and tan in the dappled morning light. They crinkled warmly as he smiled. I felt a heat rising in my face and knew I must be blushing.

  Behind him, a compact man emerged from the house and picked a box up off the creaking porch. When he spotted us, his steps slowed.

  “Lucas,” he called. “Give me a hand.”

  The boy acknowledged this with a half-hearte
d wave, shrugging for our benefit. “Have fun at school.” His eyes lingered on mine for a moment, then he turned and walked back into his new home.

  I stood in awkward silence for a moment.

  Cassie spoke first. “Huh. I never really understood ‘drop-dead gorgeous’ before.”

  Royal laughed, and the spell was broken.

  I opened the passenger side door and slid into Royal’s car quickly. “If you love me, get me out of here.” Royal grinned, hitting the gas and pulling away from the curb.

  Cassie leaned over my shoulder and whispered, “And right next door to you, Braedyn. Talk about an early birthday present from the universe.”

  The first half of the school day passed uneventfully. Royal caught up to me after math and we made our way to the dining hall for lunch.

  “Did you ask your dad about the Raven?”

  “It could go either way,” I said. “He almost choked to death when I brought it up, but he did promise to think about it.”

  “So there’s hope.” Royal’s eyes lit up. I could almost see the plans forming in his head. Someone shouldered past me, knocking me into Royal. Royal turned after them, incredulous. “Um, excuse you?”

  It was Amber and Ally. They looked back at us, eyes wide with feigned innocence. Ally snapped her compact mirror shut. “Oh, sorry, I totally didn’t even see you.” I rubbed my shoulder, seething. Ally was the best athlete on the cheerleading squad – an actual gymnast. She was the principal reason they’d won regionals last year. But she took all her cues from Amber.

  “What’s your problem?” I asked, struggling to rein in my anger.

  “Seems like you’re the one with the problem,” Amber said. “Maybe you should get an orange vest or something.” Her eyes shifted to something behind me and she smiled. I turned.

  Greg Pantelis was walking through the crowd. He had dark olive skin, dark curly hair, and a dazzlingly white smile. Rumor had it he’d been born on a small Greek isle that had been in his family for generations. He was the star of the swim team, and take my word for it - that had nothing to do with athletic prowess. Girls would line the bleachers at swim meets to catch a glimpse of Greg with his shirt off. He was a daily topic of conversation in the girl’s locker room.