The Return (Titan 1)

She smiled as she whirled toward the fridge, opening the door and yanking out a giant jug of tea. “She’s with a friend.”

The nervous knots from before were back, multiplying like mogwais fed after midnight. I shook my head. Mom didn’t have friends. “What friend?”

“A really nice one. They’re on a mini-vacation.” She glanced at my grandfather as she poured the tea. “Or something like that.”

Seth moved closer, a suddenly tense presence in the cozy kitchen. I took a breath, but it got stuck. “Okay. You guys are just being funny. Is she upstairs?”

“She’s gone,” my grandfather answered, picking up the newspaper. “When did she say they’d be back? Her and that nice young man who also liked pie?” His brows knitted. “I can’t. remember…”

Granny shrugged as she sat at the table, placing the glasses down. “It’s no concern of ours. Now, do you two want to drink this tea or not?”

I stared at them, sort of dumbstruck for a moment. There was no way in hell my grandparents would let my mom leave with anyone—especially a “him”—and think it was no concern of theirs. I watched them go about their business for a moment. Grandpa eating his pie. Granny arranging the glasses. Something was wrong here, very wrong. Taking a step back, I bumped into Seth.

“Josie,” he said quietly.

Spinning around, I tore out of the kitchen and ran back into the main hall. Hanging a left, I took the steps two at a time. “Mom?” I called, hitting the hallway that smelled vaguely of mothballs and apple-cinnamon. I flew past the framed photos, past my old bedroom and my grandparents’, to the last bedroom at the end of the hall.

The door was open.

I skidded into the room, breathing deeply as my frantic gaze ranged over the bedroom. The bed was empty and made. No pill bottles sat on the nightstand. Mom’s slippers weren’t on the floor beside the bed.

Hands shaking, I went to the dresser and yanked open a drawer. Empty. I moved to the next one and the next one. All of them were empty. Whipping around, I ran my hands through my hair, tugging the heavy strands back.

Mom wasn’t there.

This wasn’t right. Not right at all.

I darted to the nightstand, opened the little drawer there. It got stuck, but I pulled it open. Her favorite book—a Joanna Lindsey historical romance novel she’d read over and over again, until the pages were falling out—was still in there, tucked away next to a packet of tissues. The pills she took made her eyes water.

Stumbling back, I stared at the little paperback in the drawer. What was happening?

“Josie?”

I whirled at the sound of Seth’s voice. He stood just inside the doorway. “Where is she?” When he didn’t answer immediately, panic eroded my fragile grasp on rational thought. “Where is she, Seth?”

“I don’t know, but—”

Wheeling away from him, I stormed toward the closet and ripped the doors open. Mom didn’t have a lot of clothes, mostly comfortable things like lounge pants and worn jeans, but she did have a few dresses.

They were gone.

Seth said my name again, and this time he was closer than before. “She has to be here somewhere. Maybe she’s at the lake.” That didn’t explain the missing clothes or pills, but I jumped on it like a lifeline. “Sometimes she goes down there. And the weather isn’t bad today.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think she’s there.”

“No.” I sidestepped him as he reached for me, hurrying toward the door, but he was right behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me back against his chest.

“Stop for a sec, Josie. She’s not at any—”

A burst of strength I didn’t even know I had in me allowed me to break out of Seth’s embrace. He shouted my name, but I took off into the hallway, spinning out of control as fear for my mother took hold, sinking its razor-sharp claws into me, digging deep. I gave into it and I ran.

“Shit.”

This was about fifty levels of suck. Things were definitely off, and it wasn’t just the conversation about pie.

I took off after Josie. Damn, that girl was fast when she wanted be, and strong, too—abnormally strong in that moment she broke free, especially considering what had happened this morning. She was already downstairs, flying out the front door. Cursing under my breath, I leapt from the stairs and landed in the hall.

“Jesus H. Christ on a crutch.” Josie’s grandfather stumbled into the wall beside the doorway, his hand against his chest.

Shit on a brick.

“Forget you saw that.” I headed for the still-open door, turning back for a second, tossing out another compulsion. “And…I don’t know…go eat some more pie.”

Then I was outside, crossing the porch with one jump. Hitting the gravel, I spotted her breaking off at the treeline. I took off after her, chasing her through the tall oaks, and then she disappeared around a bend. Picking up speed, I burst out from the trees and skidded on sand-colored pebbles, kicking the tiny rocks into the air.

Josie was a few feet in front of me, standing near a pile of driftwood, staring across the still waters of a huge-ass lake. I brushed a strand of hair that had come loose behind my ear as I stared at her stiff back.

Gods, the last thing I needed was for her to run off like this, but dammit, her emotions were heavy, tangible in the cooled breeze, practically a third entity between us.

“She’s gone,” she said, turning around. Her blue eyes shone as she stared at me, her expression pleading, and there was a tug in my chest, an unsettled feeling, because I couldn’t answer that unspoken plea. Squeezing her eyes shut, she reopened them and walked past me, back toward the stand of trees. I turned, relieved when she stopped, her back to the trees. “Something’s wrong with my grandparents. They would never be okay with her leaving…or with someone taking her.”

Stepping forward, I stopped when a look that said she was ready to bolt again flickered across her face. “I think your grandparents are under a compulsion.”

“A compulsion?” she whispered, and a sudden gust of wind picked up her words, tossing them around. “Someone like you has been here? Took my mom and messed with my grandparents’ heads?”

I could already tell this wasn’t going to go over smoothly, but there was no point in lying. “It could be a pure, or a god or…”

“Or what?” She took a step back, her hands balling into fists. “Or what?” she shouted.