Holidays are Hell

I'd fully expected to wake up in the hospital or ambulance, and was surprised when I had come to in the back of my mom's car, still at the crime site. Wrapped in an I.S. blanket, I had stumbled out looking for Pierce to find myself in a media circus. Robbie and I had stood in the shadows and watched in awe as my mother worked a system I hadn't even known existed. Through her deadly serious threats disguised as scatterbrained fussing, she not only managed to get the charges against me for willful destruction of private property dropped, but got them to agree that I didn't have anything to do with their doors being blown out, much less fled their custody with an unknown person. The I.S. personnel were more than happy to give my mom whatever she wanted if she would keep her voice down, seeing as three news crews were within shouting distance.

Apparently the vampire I'd helped bring in had a history of such kidnappings, but because of his clout, he'd been getting away with it for years. I hated to go along with the shush work, but I didn't want a record, either. So as long as my mother, Robbie, myself, and the girl kept quiet—her parents being placated with enough money to put Sarah through the university and therapy of her choice—the vampire would be charged with kidnapping, not the stiffer crime of underage enticement.

It didn't bother me as much as I'd thought it would. He was still going to jail, and if vampire justice was like any other kind, he'd probably wake up one night with a wooden spoon jammed through his heart. Vampires didn't like pedophiles anymore than the next guy.

So Robbie's and my trip to the I.S. had been dulled to an anonymous tip, making the I.S. out to be the heroes. Whatever. Along with, the notoriety went any charges they might file against me. Mom had grounded me, though. God, I was nearly nineteen and grounded. What was up with that?

Of Pierce, there had been no sign. No one remembered seeing him apart from my mom.

A sigh shifted my shoulders, coming out as a thin mist catching the pink light of the nearing sunrise.

"Rachel," my mom said, reaching to tug the blanket closed around my neck, "that's the third sigh in as many minutes. I'm sure he will be back."

I grimaced that she knew where my thoughts were, then searched the sky and the strips of clouds throwing back the sun in bands of pink. I'd known he'd be gone by sunrise, but I wished I'd had the chance to say goodbye. "No," I said, bobbing my marshmallow in and out of the flame. "He won't. But that's okay."

My mom gave me a sideways hug. "He looked like he really cared. Who was he?" she asked, and a hint of alarm slipped through me. "I didn't want to ask in front of the I.S. because he rushed off as if he didn't want to be noticed." She huffed, taking my stick with the now-burning marshmallow. "I don't blame him," she muttered as she blew the little fire out. "They would have probably tried to pin the entire kidnapping on him. I don't like vampires. Always shoving their nastiness under a rug or onto someone else's plate."

Fingers gingerly taking the burnt marshmallow off, she smiled, her eyes brilliant in the clear light. In witch years, she wasn't that much older than me, always dressing down to make herself match the other moms in the neighborhood. But the morning light always showed how young she really was.

"So was he someone from school?" she prodded, a small smile dying to come out.

I gestured for her to eat the sticky black mass if she wanted it, and while she was occupied, I glanced nervously at Robbie. He was ignoring me. "Just a guy I met at the square," I offered.

My mother huffed again. "And that's another thing, missy," she said, but it was Robbie who got the thwack of the back of her hand on his shoulder. "You said you were going to the concert."

Robbie shot me a black look. "Aw, Mom, I had to scalp the tickets to get your solstice gift."

It was a lie, but she accepted it, making happy-mom sounds and giving him a marshmallowy kiss on his cheek. "That's where we met Pierce," I said to give some truth to the story. "If we hadn't helped him, no one would."

"You did the right thing," my mom said firmly. "If I toast you a marshmallow, will you eat it, honey?"

I shook my head, wondering if she knew exactly how we had made his acquaintance. Probably, seeing as by the time I got into the kitchen, all evidence of my spelling had been boxed up and was back in the attic.

Robbie took the stick and put a new marshmallow over the fire. He liked them so light brown it was almost not worth doing. "So, I imagine your little adventure has cured you of wanting to go into the I.S.?" he asked, and my head jerked up.

Shocked he would bring it up in front of mom, I stared at him from across the suddenly still figure of my mom. "No." Silent, my mom eased back into her chair and out of the way of the coming argument.

"Look at you," my brother said after a cautious glance at our mom. "You passed out. You can't do it."