The Awakening (Darkest Powers 2)

“Simon’s here?” I asked.

“And Tori. ”

He took one last slow look around, almost reluctantly, like he wanted to race to the front door as much as I did. Then we continued along the walk, the stones squeaking beneath our wet sneakers.

Derek was so busy looking out at the forest that I was the one who had to grab his arm this time. I pulled him short and directed his attention to our path.

The front door was ajar.

Derek swore. Then he took a deep breath, as if fighting off the first twitches of panic. He motioned for me to get behind him, then seemed to think better of it and waved for me to stand beside the door, against the wall.

When I was out of the way, he prodded the door open an inch. Then another. A third tap and he caught a smell, nostrils flaring. His eyebrows gathered in confusion.

After a moment, I smelled it, too. A strong bitter smell, familiar…“Coffee. ” I mouthed. He nodded. That’s what it was—burned coffee.

He eased the door open wider. I pressed my back against the wall, resisting the urge to sneak a peek. I watched him instead as his gaze scanned the room beyond, his expression telling me nothing immediately caught his attention.

He motioned for me to stay put and stepped inside. Now I really fidgeted, tapping my thighs, scrunching my toes in my shoes, heart tripping. I wished I was the kind of girl who always carried a compact mirror. I could use it like they do in spy movies, to see what was happening around the corner.

When I leaned a little too close to the doorway, my inner voice piped up, telling me not to be stupid. The guy with bionic senses was better equipped for this.

Finally Derek backed out. He

started to pantomime that he’d go in and look around while I stayed out here. Then, after a glance at the surrounding darkness, he seemed to think better of his first instinct. He pointed to my pocket and mimicked opening a switchblade. I took it out. He gestured for me to stay behind him, his emphatic jabs and accompanying scowl saying better than any words, I mean it, Chloe. I nodded.

We went inside. The front door led into a small foyer with a closet, then opened into the living room. A few pieces of mail were scattered in front of the closet door. I thought maybe it had been shoved through a mail slot, but there wasn’t one, and I remembered seeing a mailbox at the end of the long drive. A small table leaned precariously against the corner, and a piece of ad mail rested on top of it.

Derek was moving into the living room. I hurried to catch up before I got “the look. ”

It was small and cozy, like you’d expect in a country cottage. The chairs and sofa were piled with mismatched pillows. Hand-knitted blankets were neatly folded over each back. The tops of the end tables were clear, but the shelves underneath bulged with magazines, and the two bookshelves were overflowing. One blazing lamp was the only electrical appliance—there was no TV, computer, or other techno gadget to be seen. An old-fashioned sitting room, for lighting the fire and curling up with a book.

Derek headed for the next doorway. When the floorboards creaked, he stopped short and I nearly plowed into him. He cocked his head. The house was silent. Eerily still and silent. Even if everyone had gone to bed, it shouldn’t be so quiet, considering both Simon and Tori snored.

We stepped into the kitchen. The stink of burned coffee was gag-inducing. I could see the coffeemaker on the counter, the red light still on, a half-inch of sludge in the bottom, like a full pot of coffee had been simmering for at least a day. Derek walked over and turned it off.

There was a plate on the counter. On it was a piece of toast with one bite gone. An open jam jar rested beside it, the knife still inside. A coffee mug sat on the table, on top of an opened newspaper. I looked in the cup. It was two-thirds full, the cream congealing in an oily white film.

Derek waved for me to fall behind him again and he headed for the back of the house.

Thirty-seven

THE HOUSE WAS BIGGER than it looked, with four doors off the rear hall.

The first led to a guest room, the bed covers pulled tight, towels folded on top of the dresser, no sign that anyone had used it recently. The next was an office with a futon couch—more room for guests, but again, no sign that any had been here in a while. Across the hall was a bathroom. It, too, looked unused, with wrapped soap and unopened shampoo on the counter, ready for guests.

At the end of the hall was the master bedroom. It was as tidy as the rest of the house, but the bed was unmade. A bathrobe lay crumpled on a chair. On one nightstand sat a half-filled glass of water and a paperback novel. There was an attached bathroom, with a rumpled bath mat and a towel draped over the shower stall. I squeezed the towel. Dry.

Back in the hall, Derek dropped again to sniff.

“They were here,” he said.

“Simon and Tori?”

He nodded.

“They didn’t sleep here last night, though,” I said. “No one’s used this room in a while.

He nodded again.

“Can you smell anyone else?” I asked.

“Just Andrew. I’ll check the front again. ”

He walked off, apparently having decided that the house was empty, so it was safe to leave me behind. I met up with him back in the kitchen as I examined the toast. He bent to sniff it.

“Andrew?” I asked.

He nodded.

I walked to the table and looked at the newspaper. “It’s like he was reading this, drinking his coffee, and waiting for the toast to pop. He puts jam on it, takes a bite and then…”

And then what? That was the question.

I picked up the coffeepot. “It’s been on since at least this morning. ”

He walked over and eyed the pot. “Rings show it was almost full. To evaporate that much, it’s been on since yesterday. ”

“Before Simon and Tori arrived. ”

Derek didn’t answer. He was staring out the window over the sink, his gaze blank.

“Is this…like your dad?” I asked. “When he disappeared?”

He nodded.

“Were there any other scents at the door?”

He turned slowly then, his attention shifting back to me. “Yeah, but there are lots of reasons why someone would come to the door. None seem to go past it. No recent trails, at least. ”

“The table in the front hall looks like someone bumped into it and the mail fell off. From the looks of this place, Andrew doesn’t seem the type to leave a mess like that. ”

“No, he’s not. ”

“Something happened at the door, then. Someone came or someone called and Andrew left in a hurry. ”

Like their dad. I didn’t say it again—I already knew he was thinking it.

I circled the kitchen, looking for more clues. Everything was so neat that any disruption would stick out, and I couldn’t see any.

“It’s definitely breakfast for one,” I said. “And there’s no sign that Simon or Tori used the spare bedrooms or guest bath. That would suggest that whatever happened here, it happened before they arrived. ”

Derek nodded, like he’d already come to this conclusion.

I opened cupboards, all perfectly ordered inside. “It seems like Simon did exactly what we did—came in, walked around, realized something had happened and then…”

And then what? That question again.

“If they left, there’ll be a second trail outside,” Derek said as he strode to the kitchen door. “I’ll see if they went back to the road or—”