John came in and leaned over the other side of the crib, smiling down at his daughter. We’d been quiet, but Charlie stirred suddenly, stretching her limbs out as far as they would go before relaxing back into a starfish shape. “Sam used to sleep just like that,” I whispered, delighted.
“I remember,” John said wryly. Then: “She looks more like Sam every day.”
His expression was so complicated: sad, pleased, longing. I felt a sharp rush of grief. “I miss her,” I said simply.
“Me too.”
We stood there silently for a few minutes, just watching the baby sleep. She’s perfect, Sam. I sent the words toward my sister, hoping she’d somehow hear them. And even more precious than you knew. I couldn’t help but feel a touch of apprehension with that last thought. When she was alive, Sam hadn’t known that Charlie was a null. John still didn’t know, a blissful ignorance that was getting harder and harder for me to maintain. The Old World had an ironclad rule about never letting humans know about the supernatural. It was essential to their survival. Quinn had implied once that occasional exceptions were made, and I’d met one of those exceptions: an ex-Homicide cop in LA.
But although I was hoping Maven would eventually let me explain the truth to John, I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. Every parent worries about their kid. Telling John that he also needed to worry about vampires or werewolves kidnapping his daughter wasn’t going to be fun for anyone. But he deserved to know.
Even if I got permission, however, I didn’t think I’d tell John how Sam had really died. He didn’t need to know that my sister, his wife, had died after a werewolf ate chunks out of her. I would go to my grave making sure no one else who loved Sam ever had to know.
John sighed suddenly. “I can’t believe it’ll be a year next month. Sometimes it seems like I just talked to her.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” I said honestly. Of course, I had talked to Sam recently. I knew for sure that her spirit was alive somewhere, thinking of us. I could take comfort in that.
I wondered if there was any way I could give some of that comfort to John. Surely it couldn’t hurt to tell him a little bit of the truth. “I’ve been dreaming about her,” I ventured. “In the dream, she’s okay. She’s watching us, and she’s really proud of how you’re taking care of Charlie.”
John’s eyes welled up, and he turned away so I wouldn’t see. I pushed on, careful to keep the tears out of my own voice. “So, you know, if you believe in twin ESP or whatever, maybe it’s true. I’m sure it is.”
John nodded fiercely, and without looking at me, he reached across the crib and clasped my hand. I squeezed it and let go.
I wanted to linger, to pull up a chair and stay there all night watching Charlie sleep contentedly, but Maven was right: I needed sleep. I got up on my tiptoes and leaned way over the crib wall so I could kiss my niece in her fuzzy pajamas. Charlie didn’t stir, her little face lost in whatever babies dream of.
“Goodnight, babe,” I whispered. “Love you.”
Chapter 18
When I woke up at seven the next morning, I saw I’d missed a text from Simon, which had come in three hours earlier: drunk college student went missing at Chautauqua last night. Sitting up in bed, I called him immediately.
“I don’t know much else, really,” he said by way of a greeting. He didn’t sound like he’d slept, which meant he was pushing himself harder than ever. “The missing kid’s name is Dave Banort. He and his two buddies were out partying last night, and Dave decided he had to take a walk in the park to sober up before class this morning. The park was closed, but his friends said he went in anyway. They reported him missing this morning when he didn’t show up to class.”
“So he could still just be asleep behind a bush somewhere?” I said hopefully.
“Maybe. BPD is searching the park now, but it’s a bit of a cluster-fuck because the county sheriff has jurisdiction over part of the park, too, so now they’re getting involved. And the park rangers. And I guess a bunch of the kid’s friends showed up wanting to help too.” He sighed. “Needless to say, the park will be closed until further notice.”
Oh, fuck me. I’d forgotten all about talking to Maven about closing the park. I tried to comfort myself with the fact that the college kid had gone in there when it was supposed to be closed anyway, but it didn’t really help. I knew I’d dropped the ball.
“If I’m right about this thing’s digestive cycle,” Simon continued, “he’ll spit out another pellet tonight, or maybe sometime tomorrow. Then he’ll go hunting again tomorrow night.”
Simon no longer sounded excited about the prospect of a new creature. He sounded . . . defeated. “You don’t think they’re going to find him,” I stated.
“Just the parts it didn’t like,” he said heavily.
“Why nighttime?” I asked. “Is it nocturnal?”
There was a pause. “Good question. It might be nocturnal, or it might sense that the best way to remain out of sight of its prey is to only hunt at night. Or it could be a supernatural thing. Most Old World creatures operate at night.”
I blew out a breath. “Well, shit.”
“Yeah. The only sort of good news is that Dave was a pretty big guy. It’s possible we’ll get a full forty-eight hours before it needs to feed again.”