When Stars Come Out (When Stars Come Out 1)

Natalie ignores me. “Unless you think it makes you more human.” I clench my jaw. She’s trying to pick a fight with me.

“Not in the mood, Nat.” I meet her gaze and we glare at each other until she relents.

“Jacobi’s been put on probation.”

“What?” Probation means Jacobi is banned from participating in patrol, raids, and stings—basically everything he needs credit for if he is going to graduate and be placed among ranks as a Knight.

“Tonight was the third training he failed this month against you. You knew this was coming. Would it kill you to let him win just one?”

“Jacobi wouldn’t want that,” I snap. “Besides, how would that help him?”

“He wouldn’t be on probation! Do you even want him to rank as a Knight?”

“I’m not even going to answer that.” I climb into the driver’s side of my Jeep. “You’re not the only one who cares.”

I don’t look at Natalie as I speak. I start my Jeep and peel out, circling her as I leave. My tires move over the gravel road easily, but I find I can’t release my breath until I hit the even surface of the pavement. Natalie’s voice grates against my eardrums, and I set my teeth tighter.

No matter the situation, Natalie has to care more than anyone else. She is pretty much viewed as a saint at school and the Compound, but I also know how she treats the rules—like the rest of us. Meaning, breaking them doesn’t count unless you get caught.

I travel about five miles down a narrow two-lane road crowded with overgrown trees before turning off toward my house. The gravel pops beneath my tires, and I come to a slow stop. I live on the outskirts of Rayon. My house is a two-story cottage with wood siding and lead-glass windows. The roof comes to a point in two places, and my mother keeps the garden against the house manicured so not a single shrub rises above the windowsills. This house and the land belong to my father’s family and it’s been passed down each generation.

It’s just another thing I don’t want to inherit from my father.

I head inside. Even before the door closes, my mom’s voice reaches me.

“Shy, is that you?”

“Hey, Mom!” I call back as I take off my shoes in the entryway. My mom’s as sweet as sugar until you track dirt on her floor. She appears just as I start to move into the kitchen. I look nothing like her—I don’t even have her eyes. She’s Irish through and through: red hair, green eyes, a light dusting of freckles, and an accent as thick as the woods around our house. She’s

also one of the best medics in our Compound, but she’s been suspended from duty until further notice for basically being a good person. It’s stupid and it makes me angry just thinking about it.

I have a feeling that’s another reason Dad’s kept his distance...because he’s embarrassed.

“Shy.” She leans forward to press a kiss to my cheek while simultaneously handing me one of her homemade pizza pockets. Nothing—and I mean nothing—frozen comes into this household. “How was your day?”

“Good,” I say quickly, and move past her into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. “How was yours?”

She sighs. “Busy, but that will change soon. I hired a new agent today.”

“Oh?” I ask, taking a seat at the table, and a big bite of pizza pocket “Who’s the lucky one?”

By day, Mom’s a real estate agent—the best, they say.

“Her name is Jayne Silby.”

I was only half listening before—now Mom has my whole attention.

She continues. “She’s new to town. Just moved here with her daughter. She’ll have to get her license, but I think she’ll be a great addition to my team.”

“Silby, huh?” Anora said her mother moved here for a job, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. “I think I met her daughter today at school.”

“Was she nice?”

“Very.” My brows rise as I speak—nice, beautiful, odd...familiar. The muscles in my chest tighten as I recall her eyes—heavy-lidded and a mix of green and brown.

“I’m sure she must be pretty if she looks anything like her mother.” Mom’s statement is saturated with sweetness and a hint of warning. She knows just as well as any Valryn that any affection I might develop for a human is wasted...and dangerous. Then, realizing I’m rubbing the spot on my chest where the ache is greatest, I drop my hand.

“Did her mom say why they moved here?”