Incubus (68 page)

harden, thicken into something like granite, seamless and solid, until no weakness remained.

Standing in the garden, I shivered. I may have cast Karayan out effortlessly, but her words were

much harder to banish.

“Get up, Dad.” I stood next to Dad’s bed, dressed for school. The room was dark and still, filled with

the peace of early morning. It grated on my nerves, contrasting sharply with the chaos of my thoughts.

“Dad. Time to get up.”

Dad groaned. He opened his eyes and glanced at the clock. “Braedyn?”

“We need to see the Guard.”

“You found something?” Dad asked, sitting up.

“Hale’s up. I saw him coming back from his run.” I had waited in my room at the window since

five, watching for Hale’s return.

“Okay. I’m up.”

“I’ll be downstairs.” I walked to the door, already caught up in another tangle of anxious thoughts.

“Oh, Braedyn,” Dad called from behind me. I turned as he swung his legs over the side of his bed,

rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He gave me a tired smile. “Happy Birthday.”

I stopped with my hand on the door, running through the days in my head. But of course he was

right. November ninth. I was 17 years old today.

It took longer to get everyone assembled than I expected. It was 6:30 by the time everyone had

joined us in the Guard’s living room. Lucas and Gretchen were the last two down the stairs. When they

sat down, Lucas’s jaw creaked with a massive yawn and Matthew ruffled Gretchen’s short hair

affectionately.

“Okay, what’s up?” Hale asked.

“It’s Mr. Hart,” I said grimly. I told them what had happened last night. I even told them the part

Karayan had played. When Thane heard her name his expression darkened with fury, but no one

interrupted me. More than one of them looked unsettled when I explained how I’d touched Mr. Hart’s

dream and felt nothing. That Karayan was surprised, too, made them more uncomfortable. “It’s him,”

I finished. “Mr. Hart has to be the incubus.”

“Braedyn, honey.” Dad took my hand and looked into my face. His expression was deadly serious.

“Is it possible, is it at all possible that this dream you had doesn’t mean what you think it means?”

“You think I’m making this up?” I asked, crushed.

“No. You believe what you’re saying, no question. But I need to know if there’s any possibility

that Mr. Hart is human.”

“I’m telling you what I saw,” I said.

“I’m more concerned with what you haven’t seen,” Dad said gently. “You say you sensed nothing

from his dream. Okay, correct me if I’m wrong, but that means if you couldn’t sense he was human,

you also couldn’t sense that he was Lilitu, right?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but I couldn’t.

“And neither you nor Gretchen saw anything supernatural about him.”

“Gretchen?” I asked. “When did Gretchen see Mr. Hart?”

“I went to his house last night,” she said.

“And?” I asked.

“Sorry, Braedyn,” Gretchen said. “I was looking hard for anything at all, but,” she shrugged

unhappily.

I glanced around the table. “That doesn’t mean he’s not an incubus. Angela told us, we don’t know

enough about them to know if spotters can even see them.”

“Maybe,” Gretchen admitted. “But he lives with his wife and two little kids. If he’s an incubus,

he’s gone to some pretty extreme measures to fit in.”

“I’m telling you, something’s not right with that guy,” I insisted.

“Braedyn can you tell me with 100 percent certainty that Mr. Hart is an incubus?” Dad asked, but

then held up a finger before I could answer. “Please. Think hard, honey. Because you’re asking us to

execute a man.”

The breath I’d taken to answer with left my lungs. Everyone watched me, waiting. My confidence

wavered. What if they were right? What if I was misinterpreting the signs? “Maybe,” I licked my lips.

“Maybe we should wait a bit longer.”

“Okay.” Dad glanced across the table and I saw Hale and Matthew relax. I suddenly realized that

they had been preparing themselves to kill someone on my word. “Okay. We’ll wait.”

The doorbell rang, shattering the quiet morning with a peal of bells.

Matthew stood and answered the door in the foyer.

I heard an explosion of voices, and Matthew’s laughter. “Holy shit, man, look at you!”

“What about you, dude?” the guy Matthew was talking to answered. “I hear you let some woman

put a leash on you. What’s up with that?”

I glanced at Gretchen, whose eyebrows hiked up, amused.

“You might want to watch what you say,” Matthew said as he and the newcomers walked into the

living room. Four men in their early twenties dropped their overstuffed duffels onto the floor. They

weren’t wearing uniforms, but something about them screamed soldier nonetheless. Matthew had his

arm around the neck of a handsome black man, steering him roughly into the living room. “That’s her

over there. Gretchen,” he said, “Meet Max. Max, Gretchen. I cannot wait to watch her take you apart

on the mat.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see,” Max said, grinning. “What do you say, Gretchen? Up for a bout

sometime?”

“Looking forward to it,” Gretchen said. Her smile was mild, but her eyes crinkled with

anticipation.

Max’s eyes travelled around the room, snagging on me. “So come on, man,” he said, hitting

Matthew in the stomach. “Introduce the crew.”

“Right,” Matthew said. He pointed out the newcomers as he listed off their names. “Privates Chris,

Paul, and Jason. You already know Max.” Matthew turned into the living room, naming the rest of us

for the newcomers. “Gretchen, Lucas, Thane, Hale, Braedyn,” he ended by sweeping a hand toward

Dad. “And this is Murphy.” The newcomers reacted, eyeing my dad with more than a little

amazement.

“For real?” the blond guy—Chris? Or was it Jason?—asked.

“In the flesh,” Matthew said.

“It’s an honor, sir,” the blond guy said, offering Dad his hand.

“Please,” Dad said, shaking it. “We don’t stand on formality here. Come in, put your feet up.”

The newcomers crowded around Dad and he was stuck fielding questions. I couldn’t help but grin.

It was still strange to think of Dad as the living legend so much of the Guard saw him as.

“Braedyn?” Hale pulled me away from the crowd. “This probably goes without saying, but you

should keep your secret under wraps for now.”

I glanced at the soldiers, my smile fading. “What about their spotters?” I asked.

“Marx and his team are recruiting the spotters for their mission. They’re just sending the fighters

on to Puerto Escondido right now, so we have a little time to get them familiar with you before we

drop that bomb.”

“Okay.” I let out a deep sigh. I wasn’t looking forward to another round of “what do you mean

she’s a Lilitu?”

“Keep an eye on Mr. Hart,” Hale added. I glanced at him, surprised. “If he is what you think, we’ll

take care of it.”

I nodded just as Dad managed to extract himself from his band of groupies.

“Why don’t you go home, honey,” he asked. He was smiling, but I could see his tension. It didn’t

take a genius to work it out. He didn’t want me around the Guard soldiers any more than was strictly

necessary.

“Sure, okay.”

“I wanted to make you breakfast for your birthday,” Dad said. He glanced back at the new

Guardsmen. “But I think I need to help sort out the arrangements.”

“No, I get it.”

“I love you, honey,” Dad said, planting a kiss on my head. “I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.”

But before I could tell him it was okay—who needed a birthday breakfast anyhow?—he was walking

back into the living room.

My seventeenth birthday went from disappointing to downright depressing.

At school, no one even mentioned it. Cassie and Royal had been so eager to help me plan my

sixteenth birthday. But they’d completely forgotten my seventeenth, being so caught up with the

theater production.

Lucas was focused on Mr. Hart, waiting for the drama teacher to make any mistake that could

reveal his true nature. I was late to lunch, and when I got there only Seth was sitting at our table.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“Dunno,” he shrugged, shoving another bite of food into his mouth.

I sat down and reached for the nearest bowl of food. Tater-tots stared up at me, covered in a slick

sheen of oil. “Actually, I’m not all that hungry,” I said, pushing the bowl away.

“Does that mean...?” Seth eyed the tater-tots.

“Knock yourself out,” I answered. I pushed back from the table and stood.

“You’re not going to eat anything?” Seth asked.

“No.” I gave him a smile in apology. “Not feeling too great today.”

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked awkwardly, suddenly looking like a frog on a hotplate.

“No, it’s okay. I’m going to head over to the library. I’ve got a quiz to study for.” It was true, but

when I left the dining hall I didn’t feel like studying.

Instead, I walked over to the performing arts building, thinking I might run into Lucas patrolling

the halls for some sign of Mr. Hart.

I walked into the building, but it was empty. Which made sense; most of the students were at

lunch.

Searching the halls for Lucas, I turned up empty handed. I stopped in the green room, frustrated.

That’s when I heard the muffled conversation. It was coming from the costume closet. I cracked the

door open and peeked inside.

Cassie and Mr. Hart were sitting on the worktable, side by side. He had an arm around her back,

and she was looking up into his face. The moment was clearly private, intimate.

Instead of obeying my instincts and retreating, I pushed the door open with a cheerful, “Oh, hi,

Cassie. There you are. We missed you at lunch.”

Cassie and Mr. Hart sprang apart, caught. Mr. Hart slid off the worktable and gave Cassie a careful

smile. “Well. I don’t want to keep you from your lunch.” He walked past me quickly.

“I lost track of time,” Cassie said, laughing nervously. “Sorry. You didn’t have to come looking

for me.” She gathered up her things and headed to the door. “What are they serving today?”

I closed the door before she could escape. She looked at me, startled.

“Cassie,” I said. “What was that?”

“What?”

“With Mr. Hart?”

“What? We were just talking.” Cassie’s cheeks reddened and she wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“That’s not what it looked like,” I said.

“What did it look like?” Cassie asked. I was surprised by the hostility in her voice.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Like before.”

Cassie looked at me, genuinely confused. “Before?” I realized instantly I’d made a mistake. Her

eyes narrowed. “You mean, like Parker?”

“Cassie,” I said, reaching for her arm. She jerked away from me, pissed.

“You too?” she said. Tears of anger sprang into her eyes.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I needed someone to talk to,” she said. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to—” she shook her head,

disgusted.

“If you want to talk, why can’t you talk to Royal and me?” I asked.

“You?” Cassie laughed in disbelief. “You haven’t exactly been around lately and Royal... he still

treats me like something that’s going to shatter if he’s not careful.”

“Okay,” I said, scrambling for the right thing to say. “But I just think Mr. Hart’s—”

“What?”

“Not... appropriate,” I mumbled under the heat of her glare.

“Listen,” Cassie snapped. “You want to be my friend? Stop trying to be my babysitter.”

Cassie pushed roughly past me and yanked the door open. I blocked her path, desperate to get

through to her.

“Wait,” I said. Cassie wouldn’t meet my gaze. “I feel like I don’t even know what’s going on in

your life right now.”

“Whose fault is that?” Cassie didn’t give me a chance to respond. She pushed my arm out of the

way and marched out of the costume closet. I stared at the racks of old clothes lining the room. Cassie

was right. I’d disappeared from her life, leaving a convenient hole available for Mr. Hart to slip right

into. I couldn’t have made it easier for him if I’d tried.

My fault. This was all my fault.

Chapter 9

A storm was gathering across the mountain. Swollen, purple clouds crouched over the earth, casting

darkness onto the land below. The anticipation of rain became a building tension that seemed to ache