about to steal from your dickwad master. But I have four hungry kids to feed. Man, kids eat a lot. And you look like you would sympathize with that . . . anyway. This food was supposed to go to them in the first place, so I’m just reclaiming it.”
The animal goes completely still, as if he understands me. Sometimes I trick myself into thinking they actually can.
“You might be wondering how I ended up responsible for four children,” I continue like the lunatic I am. Man, I should probably get out more.
The cat’s ears point in my direction, and it makes a tiny chirping noise I pretend is a response.
“Long story short, I was homeless on the streets of Dallas. You would not like it there. . . anyway, two wonderful women rescued me, and I’ve been doing the same ever since. Rescuing kids orphaned by the Fae. Only once they’re here, I have to find a way to feed them. That’s where this food comes in.”
The animal and I lock eyes and I swear something passes between us. An understanding.
Then the tomcat pads over to me and rubs against my leg. After stroking his back for a sec, I get to work.
Everything on my mental list gets hefted or lugged to a pile near the back door.
When I’m done, I’m breathing hard and sweat drenches the top of my tank top. I tick off the list to make sure I have the important things, because after this break-in—or break out, if we’re being technical—this place will turn into Fort Knox.
Powdered milk. Check.
Ramen noodles. Check.
Three crates of eggs. Check.
Giant bag of pinto beans (yuck). Check.
Cheetos (for Jane). Check.
Tampons (for me). Check.
Charms lollipops with gum in the center. (Because they make life better.) Check.
A few items, like toilet paper and razors, are impulse grabs.
My loot ends up being twenty items total. The pallets are sent by the government outside the tainted borderlands, so everything is family size.
I glance over my wimpy arm muscles. This could take a while.
A quick check outside the window above the door shows the coast is clear. The light is fading, the world outside a silvery-gray.
I laugh at the new deadbolt as I unlock the door and prop it open with a rock. Deadbolt, Cal? Really? That’s all you got?
I would give almost anything to see Cal’s face when he realizes I was inside this whole time.
It takes five trips to haul everything to my wheelbarrow, and when I’m done, I’m sucking humid Texas air like it’s the sugar inside pixie straws.
Right before I leave, a mental image of the cat, his ribs sticking out, flashes across my mind.
No. I will not go back for the cat. I will not . . .
I go back for the damned cat. The poor guy practically throws himself into my arms, yowling so loud my aunts can probably hear it back at the farmhouse. His legs clasp around my neck, his claws digging into my flesh.
“Shh,” I whisper-scold. “Chatty Cat, if you’re coming with me, you have to be quiet.”
Thank God he stops making his crazy noises, and I grab a twenty-pack of canned tuna before we head outside.
Chatty Cat is practically glommed onto my face. With a little effort, and a lot of cursing, I peel him off. The cat and the tuna go in the wheelbarrow. He settles on top of the packages of ramen, curls up, and immediately begins to purr.
I pick my compound bow up and toss it onto the pile. Pretty sure Cal’s arsenal of guns trumps my one bow, but the weapon’s not for humans.
This close to the Shimmer—the magical veil that separates our world from the Fae’s—everyone needs to be armed. The things that seep from the other side are inhuman, and it’s not just the Fae.
When their magical war made everything go kablooey, the same magic transformed the nearest people into monsters we call darklings.
The Shimmer isn’t just for keeping us out of their lands; it’s for keeping the darklings out.
But sometimes they find their way into the borderlands anyway. And lately, the killings have increased. My heart spikes as I recall how, for the last week, tracks from something inhuman have appeared outside my house. The paw prints definitely canine but too large to be normal wolves.
Pushing the thought from my mind, I snatch a lollipop from the wheelbarrow and pocket five more, savoring the sour-apple flavor that explodes on my tongue. After nearly a day of nothing to eat,