Enthralled: Paranormal Diversions (Wicked Lovely 5.50)

“Well, in that case . . . no.”

A louder growl.

“Seriously?” I said. “An order? Has that ever worked?”

He grumbled something I couldn’t hear and probably didn’t want to.

“I’m not kidding, Chloe. Stop running, turn around, and—”

“I’ll be back as soon as I catch her. ’Kay? Bye.”

I hung up and turned my phone on vibrate.

I used to think that once we started going out, Derek would change. When I admitted that to Tori, she nearly laughed herself into an aneurysm and gave me a lecture on the stupidity of expecting to change a guy. Maybe I didn’t have her dating experience, but I knew you didn’t go out with someone because you thought you’d change him. That wasn’t what I’d meant. I liked Derek the way he was. I’d just hoped getting closer would mean landing on the sharp side of his tongue less often.

I should have known better. He did the same to Simon, who was not only his brother but his best friend. Derek had spent the first five years of his life in a lab. No mother; no father; nothing even remotely like a family. That does stuff to you. Stuff that’s hard to overcome.

I had to understand, like Simon did, that Derek lashed out when he was worried about us. We’re like the weaker members of his pack, and he’s always trying to herd us back behind him, where it’s safe, growling and snapping if we wander off. That doesn’t mean I need to let him get away with it. Just follow Simon’s lead—understand he doesn’t mean anything by it, but don’t let him push me around either, and push back when he steps over the line. Like now.

Right before the turnoff into the mall parking lot, there’s an abandoned house. Once when we went to the restaurant across the road, Kit asked about it, and the server told a story about how the dead owner’s son didn’t want to move back, but didn’t want his family home razed for parking spaces either. After she left, Kit said the guy was probably holding out for more money and locked in legal battles with the developers.

When I saw Tori running through the yard of the abandoned house, my heart did a double thump. For necromancers, that’s exactly the kind of place to avoid, in case there are ghosts in residence. For a genetically modified necromancer, who can accidentally raise dead rats and bats and other beasties, it’s trouble, guaranteed.

I rounded the house to see a broken window and no sign of Tori.

Please tell me you didn’t climb through that window.

I called her on my cell. Voice mail picked up right away, meaning she’d turned off her phone. Great.

I made my way through the waist-high weeds.

“Tori?” I called. “You know I can’t go in there.”

Which is why she is in there.

“Tori?” I stepped toward the window. “Can we talk about what happened?”

A flicker of movement. I glanced over to see Tori vaulting the back fence and running into the mall parking lot. Whew.

I tore off after her.

Finding one teenage girl in a shopping mall on a Saturday was like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. That day, I swore half of the teen girls had short dark hair, white T-shirts, and jean shorts. I was hurrying over to a promising one, when a deep voice behind me rumbled, “If you’re looking for Tori, I think she’s a girl.”

My target turned. “She” had a scruffy beard. I stopped short and sighed as Derek stepped up behind me, arms sliding around my waist. I leaned back against him and relaxed.

“Thought I told you to come home,” he said, bending to my ear. There was no trace of anger in his voice now.

“Did you really expect me to listen?”

Now it was his turn to sigh. “Always worth a shot.”

As people passed, they glanced over, and I remembered the rules and reluctantly stepped out of Derek’s arms. He grumbled that his dad worried too much, and it wasn’t like we knew people in this town anyway. It didn’t matter. People were looking over because we caught their attention, and for us, that’s bad.

We caught their attention because, well, we kind of stand out. Derek’s a foot taller than me and twice my size. I’m hoping for a growth spurt, but I figure he’s just as likely to get one, so it won’t make much difference. I’m tiny, and makeup makes my skin break out, so I look young for fifteen.

Derek’s size means people think he’s older than sixteen. He doesn’t really appear older, though. His skin has cleared up a lot in the last month, since his first Change, but it’s not perfect. His lank, black hair usually seems in need of a wash, even if he showers twice a day. All this means he’s learned not to tug me into back alleys for some private time, because someone’s liable to call the cops.

“Dad said he told Tori that he’s her father,” he said as we started walking. “He saw you guys talking by the oak tree. Then when I got home, you were gone.”