Just past noon, they followed Mark’s truck into the Junk Shop’s parking lot, where Casey had offered to top off Mark’s gas tank with slightly less stale fuel from the supply for the Shop’s generator, since Mark was completely out of money — they’d only put enough of the ancient gas in his tank to make the short drive.

  Mark parked crossways across three parking spaces in front of the building, and Avery made a face.

  “He pisses me off so much. It’s the things.” Avery sighed. “I’m going to give him some money from the petty cash fund so he can figure out housing that doesn’t involve sharing space with Tara. I don’t think letting him talk to her without adult supervision is a good idea. You okay with that?”

  Casey said, “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. What happened to Tara... that’s fucked up, man.”

  Simon, sandwiched between them on the truck’s bench seat, spoke up. “Anyone engaging in blood magic is incredibly dangerous. I’d like to know where Todd is now.”

  “Step one is earning Tara’s trust. She’s terrified, traumatized, and extremely angry. Then, maybe, she’ll tell us.” Casey slowed to pass over a speed bump that made the old truck rattle. “I’ve got plenty of other questions for her, too.”

  After they parked, Avery headed inside with his usual leggy, athletic strides. Watching him go, Simon said, “That necklace has potent power. He should be in far more pain than he is.”

  Before Casey could comment on that, Mark clumped around the corner of the building in his ill-fitting cowboy boots and headed their way. When he’d reached them, Casey asked, “Mark, I’ve got a question — there was a necklace with the Book. It’s supposed to protect people and, we think, heal them. Do you know anything about it?”

  Mark hunched his shoulders. “Yeah. Todd made it for m’mom. He tried to get her to wear it, but she was freaked out by the magic he was doing and wouldn’t. She locked it up with the book. Todd was so when she did that; he said he wanted it back because if she wasn’t going to use it, he wanted to add the soul to his staff. She refused to tell him where the storage unit was. Then, she died a few weeks later. The necklace might have saved her. He tested it on a couple of dogs. It works unless the injury is utterly unsurvivable, like a beheading or something.”

  Simon and Casey traded looks. The anger written all over Simon’s face, Casey thought, was absolutely about the fate of the dogs. Casey agreed with that sentiment, but expressing his own emotions wouldn’t help. They needed Mark’s cooperation. He said, “I’m sorry about your mom, you know.”

  Mark shrugged.

  Avery emerged from the basement door, an envelope in one hand, which he handed to Mark. “This should let you figure out a place to stay.”

  Mark peered into the envelope. His eyes widened. “I won’t pay you back.”

  Casey almost laughed. Mark, for all his faults, was unfailingly honest. “You still owe me $5 from Junior High when I bought you lunch ‘cuz you said you hadn’t eaten in a couple of days.”

  Mark pulled a stack of twenties and fifties out of the envelope and counted them. “Wow. Thanks. This is a lot. It’s like two months’ worth of rent at my old place.”

  It was less than a grand. Casey realized Mark’s room had not been top-tier real estate since most roommate shares in town started at around a thousand a month. He might have been able to get a back-yard garden shed or perhaps a closet all his own for that amount, but nothing more.

  Avery tilted his head. “Do you think your roommates will let you move back in if you pay off what you owe ‘em?”

  “Maybe?” Mark said doubtfully. “But the cops said I couldn’t come back. I cussed them out because they got mad at me because I cleaned the fridge, but I wasn’t I don’t hurt people. Just, sometimes I say things I regret later.”

  Casey sighed. “Best if you don’t go back if it’s that bad.”

  Mark volunteered, “You’re right I should stay away from Tara, but honestly, I don’t like sleeping at my mom’s house either. All I got is bad memories there. The house is claustrophobic — I have nightmares about stacked-up shit collapsing on me in a giant avalanche and burying me ‘cuz that happened once when I was a kid — but Todd’s apartment is gross. It really, really is. An. if I’m sleepin’ in my truck, it’s always better if I’m closer to town. Why spend the gas?”

  Avery suggested, “I saw a truck-bed topper for sale in one of the local Facebook groups for $100. That money could cover the topper, food, and camping supplies for a few weeks. With anything left over, you could get a spot at a campground. Some of them have showers. Or get a gym pass.”

  “I’m banned from all the local gyms.” Mark ran a hand over his face. “I’ve got a metal stock pot in my truck. I can get water from a creek, heat it over a fire, and clean up every day. I might be living in the forest, but I’m not an . I keep a tidy campsite, too, I promise. Uh. You two gonna buy the house, then?”

  Avery fiddled with the watch on his wrist as he said, “Yeah. I’ll put an offer in with your realtor right now. One way or another, I’ll get the funds.”

  Mark counted the money again on his way out to the parking lot.

  “Even odds he buys something stupid with it,” Casey said, watching the man leave.

  Avery scratched his jaw before speaking. “If he can’t figure out how to survive until we close on the house with that much money, that’s on him. He doesn’t have an addiction issue as far as I’ve ever heard, and he’s not stupid, so hopefully he’ll make some smart decisions... The house is a good enough deal that I almost feel guilty for getting it at that price.” He fished in his pockets and found his truck keys. "I'm going grocery shopping.”

  “You sure you’re up to it?” Casey asked.

  Avery made a face. “It hurts if I move too fast, but otherwise, it’s okay. I haven’t needed pain meds at all today.”

  “Want company?” Casey suggested.

  His brother gave him a sideways look. “I’m good. I need a bit of time to myself, I think. My mom’s been smothering me non-stop for over a week.”

  “Okay. Be safe.” After the door swung shut behind Avery, Casey said wryly to Simon, “Bet you he goes back to the Riley house. He's always been interested in Tara, and he's going to absolutely jump at the chance to help her.”

  “Grimalkins are formidable. I would personally not want to go there alone,” Simon said. “That appeared to be a full transformation. She likely has inhuman senses, instincts, and strength.”

  Casey shook his head. “I don’t think Tara’s dangerous. She has a ton of reasons to hate Mark, but she didn’t hurt him at all.”

  The Riley place looked twice as forlorn now that Avery knew somebody was living here, isolated and alone. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the house’s front yard as Avery parked the truck, and mud squished underfoot when he stepped out. He had a million questions for Tara, starting with, was she safe? Then, where was Todd?

  Briefly, he turned his attention to the house. With its greying siding and missing shingles, the house would be a major rehab job... but he was looking forward to it. As he squinted at it, he could envision it completely restored. It would look good with blue shutters and white paint, accompanied by some colorful roses surrounding it.

  Then he retrieved two bags of groceries and two value meals from the best fast-food hamburger joint in town, ignored a painful twinge from his ribs, and went looking for Tara.

  Most of the siding was covered in dirt, but a strip leading up to the sunroom roof seemed cleaner. A concrete planter next to it had the footprints of a giant cat in the dirt. Craning his neck, he studied the second-floor windows adjoining that roof, and he could tell they had fewer cobwebs and dirt than the rest.

  Hmm.

  He called, “Tara! You up there?”

  Silence.

  “Hey! I just want to talk.”

  “I’m here,” a voice rumbled behind him.

  He spun about, nearly dropping the food. For someone as big as she was, she moved with remarkable silence. Somehow, she’d followed him across the yard, and he’d never noticed.

  “Uh. Food.” He held the groceries out to her.

  She was . Not short himself, Avery wasn’t used to looking up when talking to people. She was easily seven feet tall, broad through the shoulders, with heavily clawed hands and feet. Simon had implied grimalkins could be brutally dangerous, and as he took a nervous step back, he believed it.

  “Why?” She said, the bass of her voice so deep it seemed to vibrate his bones. Her brows nearly touched as she favored him with a suspicious frown. She did not take the bags from his hands, and after a moment, he awkwardly lowered his arms.

  When she spoke, he could see her short, sturdy fangs. He’d always had a thing for movie monsters. Some of them were pretty hot. Facing the reality of someone not human was than watching a sexy alien on the screen. The hair on the back of his neck wanted to go up, even though she was very definitely . Part of him wondered what kissing a person with fangs would be like, even as he also realized she had biceps the size of hams. Her claws looked very... functional, too.

  Avery had spent what felt like half his life attending theater camps and studying with acting coaches. He forced his shoulders to relax, his posture to straighten, and a smile to touch his lips. He reminded himself not to overdo it, but he needed to project calm confidence, even if he didn’t it.

  He said brightly, “I brought some food because I figured you’d be sick and tired of eating Mrs. Riley’s apocalypse hoard.”

  One corner of her mouth twisted up in half a smile. That expression changed everything. He relaxed for real. Her deep voice held a few lingering notes of a growl, but the mood didn’t seem aimed at him. It was more of a generalized complaint. “I am for anything but freeze-dried glop and canned goods. What do you from me, though?”

  He grinned, pouring as much reassurance as he could into that expression. “I just figured I’d be nice. This place is on my way home.”

  She looked him over, arms folding and long fingers trailing over her elbows. She might seem like a monster, and the nose she was staring down at him was a bit longer now, but that pose was familiar.

  When he was fifteen, he’d bought and restored an old VW van with his father’s help. Shortly after he’d turned sixteen and could drive by himself, he pulled over on a miserably cold and rainy day to offer Tara a ride home. She’d been drenched to the skin, but she’d given him the same suspicious scrutiny and disdainful look then before declining the offer.

  To be fair, however, that had been just after the incident with Mark Riley and prom. Avery couldn’t blame her for mistrusting the intentions of any man with a vehicle. Todd, driving the pair of them because Mark didn’t have a license yet, had tried to take Tara and Mark out to a local make-out spot rather than dropping them off at the dance — saying that Tara owed his brother Todd some ‘fun’ since Todd was paying for her ticket. Apparently, both Mark and Tara had objected, Tara had discovered the child locks were turned on in the back seat, and she had busted a window and bailed from the car when it slowed to make a turn. She’d walked home several miles along a remote highway in the dark, barefoot, because she'd lost her shoes in the initial escape from the car.

  Todd had complained bitterly about her breaking his window when he dropped Mark off at school the next day, then teased Tara when she arrived about ‘freaking out.’ Tara had said nothing, but the expression on her face had been terrible. Mark, to his credit, had attempted to publicly apologize to Tara, but he’d started the apology by calling her ‘Fugly,’ and she’d shoved him into a wall — and then she had been suspended for a week for ‘hitting another student.’

  Avery, a witness to it all, had been appalled, but everything had gone down before he could think of a way to intervene.

  Now, Tara searched Avery’s face, expression a little lost, before she noted, “I can’t pay you back right.”

  He thrust a bag out towards her again, more insistently. “It’s a gift. No strings.”

  She continued to stare at him.

  Irritated now, he snapped, “Geeze, Tara. If I wanted to fuck with you, there are lots better ways to do it than with a hamburger and fries.”

  Her eyes widened. She met his gaze. He knew his lips were pressing together with annoyance. Her expression softened. “Sorry, Avery. I figured I’d get discovered sooner or later. I was expecting pitchforks and torches, not... well, not a friendly face.”

  Warily, she took two steps closer and accepted the fast-food bag from him. Her nostrils flared as the scent wafted up. He noted, “I got some sodas, too. They’re in my truck.”

  “I really can’t pay you back.” She tried to shove the burger and fries back at him.

  “Uh-uh,” he stepped quickly backward. “Same rules as chess. You touched it, you keep it.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  She snorted. “You touched it first.”

  He grinned. “Are you telling me you don’t want a burger and fries?”

  “Well...” She smiled back, and it transformed her face. Some of his carefully concealed nervous anxiety eased. She said, a bit stiffly, “Fine. Thank you.”

  “Tara, I’m going to buy this place,” he gestured loosely around them. “I don’t know shit about magic, but I do know you’ve through shit, and I am not going to make your life even shittier, get me?” Inspiration struck. “Maybe we can help each other. I know you know more than a bit about remodeling. I could use your help. We could fix that apartment in the garage up for you to stay in.”

  Her eyes narrowed. She said, “That’s the same offer Mark’s been making to contractors, and he’s had no takers because it’s a shitty deal.”

  “I mean, I’ll feed you all the burgers you can eat, too... , Tara.” His words had earned him an expression that could best be described as amusedly pissed. Hastily, he added, “That wouldn’t be a fair deal by itself, I know.” As he spoke, her expression morphed to unreadable. He said hastily, “If the source of funding I expect comes through, I’ll be tight on money for the remodel. I don’t know yet if we’ll just scrape the lot clean and sell the land or fix the house up and run a B&B. We’ll need to clean it out to assess the structure. But maybe we could negotiate a share of the profit. I could pay you when it sells, or if we decide to keep it, pay you from the income. Something fair like that.”

  “That sounds like the same deal Mark’s been trying to offer contractors. My uncle says the Rim Country is where business comes to die, Avery. Running any company in an area with a perpetual labor shortage, a hundred miles from the nearest big city, isn’t easy.”

  She wasn’t exactly wrong. The Junk Shop had struggled with finding quality employees for the entire time it had existed, even with wages and benefits much better than average, and a retail store couldn’t function without workers. Avery felt his shoulders slump at the reminder.

  She shook her head. “As far as selling it, there’s no guarantee the economy’ll be the same in a few months.”

  He sighed. He hated mentioning his trust fund to people. “In six months, I’ll have access to my inheritance. If nothing else, I could pay you then, straight up cash. I’ll put it in writing and do it with interest for the delay. I’m not trying to screw you over, Tara, promise.”

  This had to be one of the more surreal conversations he’d ever had in his life. He touched her arm when she looked away, desperate to keep a connection with her, and then realized he might have overstepped when she gave him a warning side-eye. He dropped his hand immediately. “Hey. I treat people right. I’m sorry, I didn’t think through what I was asking you. I’m not trying to take advantage. Sometimes my mouth just moves faster than my brain. It's a lifelong problem.”

  She was silent for a long, tense moment. Her jaw set in a hard line, lips pressing together. Then, she ran a hand over her face. Her claws caught the sunset light, and she stared over his head before looking down at him again. Her voice was considerably softer than it had been before. “Avery, I can’t leave here. There’s a spell. My range is about a quarter mile in all directions.”

  Avery frowned. “I don’t know anything about magic. I didn’t even believe in it until Simon put a sword through my lung. Can it be broken?”

  “Simon did what now?” She gave him a wide-eyed look.

  Avery snorted. He didn’t have to fake the sarcasm in his voice when he said, “It was all a big misunderstanding.”

  “I’ll say. As far as breaking the spell, depending on how it was constructed, either the spell will shatter if I’m physically forced outside the bounds, or it’ll kill me.”

  “Well, we won’t try that until we know you’ll survive the attempt. Todd hurting people. It’d be just like him to incorporate a deadly fail-safe and then giggle about it.”

  Tara stared off at the horizon. The late afternoon sun gave a golden glow to her very pale skin. “You’re not wrong. He’s truly dangerous. I tried to kill him when he did this—” she gestured with long claws at her face, “—to me, but I didn’t succeed.”

  “I’m not sure him should be a goal. I’d love to see him put away in jail for life.” What had she done to Todd? He couldn’t bring himself to care much if she’d turned Todd into a toad or banished him to a hell dimension or some similar crazy fate, but Mark needed to know what happened.

  Her expression was bleak. Before he could ask about Todd, she said, “He’s a blood mage. He deliberately causes pain and suffering, both emotional and physical, because he draws power from it. Even just talking to him is dangerous because he’ll twist your words into weapons for his own gain. Jails in this world aren’t equipped to deal with anybody like him, and they would be a great place for him to gain the energy for some truly nasty spells. Plus, what crime has he actually committed here? Magical assault? Can you imagine even trying to convince a judge that turning me into a monster was against the law? I’m sure there’s other shit, worse shit, but it would be the hard part.”

  “Fair point,” he agreed. “Though I don’t like it. Why have I never heard of magic before?”

  “Because it’s rare. For every truly gifted individual, there are thousands of charlatans pretending. Humans usually don’t have magic, Avery. That’s a dai’sheea thing. human magic is lost in the noise the fakes create and is generally explained away as a special effect or illusion. There is even a mage who is very well known as an illusionist with a stage show in Las Vegas. He is doing actual magic before an audience, and people think they see clever tricks, nothing more.”

  “You have magic, though, and you’re human.”

  She nodded. “I’ve got a tiny bit of Sight and a stronger gift for enchantments and illusions, but I’m not a powerful mage by dai’shee standards. Todd’s far better than I am — Granny met him a few times and vowed never to teach him. She actually warned me I might have to... kill him someday. I was nine when she said that.”

  “?”

  Tara shrugged. “She didn’t believe in hiding harsh truths from children.”

  “And you said, dai’sheea standards? Like Simon?”

  She nodded. “One hundred and forty years ago, a half-elf — my ancestor Libby — came through a portal to this world. Over the generations, humans married her descendants or the offspring of other elven refugees who followed her here.

  “The Riley brothers are my cousins, technically, three generations removed from me and six generations descended from Libby. Mrs. Riley also had a gift of Foresight, and Granny believed it drove her into madness and paranoia. Foresight’s tricky. It only shows probabilities, not certainties, and we live in a world where some of those outcomes are truly terrifying. Few people can handle knowing those possibilities, especially since Seers in our world quickly learn to keep their mouths shut. It only takes falsely warning people of a danger that never comes to pass a few times before they’re dismissed as cranks, and become the subject of ridicule.”

  “That explains a lot about her hoard, if she was seeing an apocalyptic future, and terrified of it. Hell, if I’d known Covid was coming, I’d have stocked up on toilet paper and groceries myself.”

  “Now imagine seeing the possibilities of things that might, or might not, go badly wrong.” She inclined her head. “I’ve never met anyone with the gift of Foresight who was sane, human elven. She likely saw visions of horrific futures that may never come to pass.”

  “And my brother?”

  “Casey does not have the feel of someone with dai’sheea magic. He’s a true human mage, something very rare. Granny believed he would be dangerously powerful, and it seems she was correct.”

  “I, uhhh...” he glanced at the house, and its three stories and basement full of hoarded crap. “So the Rileys are cousins to the Brights? But Mark and Todd were always sexually harassing you.”

  “The connection is not on the Bright side; it’s on my mother’s — the Adrials. However, I’m not sure that even being more closely related would have discouraged them. Todd used to harass for shits and giggles.” She scowled. Seven feet of darkly frowning cat-creature should have been more intimidating, but that expression wasn’t aimed at him.

  He frowned too, hoping that conveyed his disapproval of what they’d done to her rather than looking like he was scared of her, then said, “True. How dangerous is Todd? I mean, magically speaking. We know he’s probably a serial killer or something.” It seemed weird to casually talk about magic, but they needed to know.

  “He’s self-taught, likely with whatever knowledge he could coerce from the Book of Needs or dig up on the internet. As you can imagine, the latter tends to be complete bullshit with tiny snippets of truth. He figured out enough to do this to me using a Soul Staff he created with spirits stolen from the Book.” She waved at her face with a clawed hand.

  “I know about the Book. What’s a Soul Staff?”

  “A talisman created by binding the souls of mages to a staff. The Book has some agency of its own. That Staff has much tighter bindings and a direct and unguarded line to the leys — unlike the Book, which is deliberately designed so that it can draw power from a willing mage, acting as a conduit. That Staff is a weapon in the hands of anyone who holds it, and they do not need a whisper of power to command it.”

  “So, me or Simon could wield it?

  “When I saw the Staff last, he hadn’t bound it to himself, so yes. If I had to guess, he doesn’t know how. The spirits of the Book, likely, were his tutors, and I can’t imagine they told him anything they weren’t forced into.”

  She hesitated. “Casey’s powerful. Be aware that some will try to use him, including by binding him with a geas, and others will try to him on general principles. Mages of his power present a true danger to the order of everything. His strength is nothing to celebrate.”

  “Is that likely to present a problem tonight?”

  “If there was anyone close enough to sense the disturbance he caused, they’d have already shown up for a chat.”

  “Okay. If you’re up for it, I'd like all four of us to meet with you in a few days. You clearly know more than we do. In the meantime, is there anything you need?”

  “Believe it or not, I’m good on supplies,” she gestured at the overstuffed house. “I swear Mrs. Riley hoarded damn near . Four people?”

  “Me, Simon, Casey, and Shana.”

  Tara stared at the ground. In a tiny voice, she asked, “If I help you tear the house down, what will happen to me?”

  “Uh.” Avery hadn’t thought that far ahead. He hadn’t fully grasped that she couldn’t leave. “Then we’ll just have to fix the house. We’ll figure out a safe place for you to stay, and if anyone happens to see you, we’ll remind them of the legend of the Mogollon Monster.”

  She didn’t laugh at the last teasing comment, and belatedly, he remembered that she’d never liked being picked on about her appearance as a human, even jokingly. He said, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “You’re a good guy, Avery.” This was said with an almost resigned tone in her voice.

  “That sounds like what my last girlfriend said to me before we broke up,” he replied teasingly. Maybe some humor at his own expense would help reassure her that he meant no harm. "Which is, I suppose, better than the one who decided she didn't want to date somebody whose makeup was better than hers."

  The latter girlfriend had . He'd heard about a cool, queer nightclub and suggested they go dancing, then he’d attempted to pick her up in his old VW bus while wearing a pair of glitter-encrusted high-heel boots, skinny jeans, a sequined top, and eyeliner that would have made David Bowie proud. Only when she had demanded he change into something “more normal” did he realize she was embarrassed to be seen with him as himself. He'd thought he meant more to her, but it had turned out she was just experimenting with dating queer men.

  And, even more infuriating, the first time he’d met that woman, he’d been cosplaying Dolly Parton for a charity event, and the second time, he’d been dressed as Corporal Klingeron at Comic-Con, and he’d dropped to one knee, pretended his bat’leth was a microphone, and sung a “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” in the ‘original Klingon' to her, before asking her out. And she’d accepted. So she he was both a dork and a queen.

  Tara's ears flicked forward. He realized for the first time that they were mobile, and they’d been pinned back the entire time. She gave him a quick, surprised look. “You like women?”

  Avery, after mentally replaying several times which she’d shut him down when he tried to ask her out and mentally slapping his palm to his forehead, explained, “So, there’ve been a few boyfriends, but mostly, I date women. It’s not about appearances or gender; it’s about who I sync with best. I’ll find things I like about people physically if I’m attracted to them as a person. If I don’t like someone, they could be the most gorgeous person in the universe, and it wouldn’t matter.” He smiled at her.

  Shyly, she finally returned the expression. Twin spots of color marked her cheeks, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. He did wonder how she’d missed Mark teasing him regularly and annoyingly about being the school bicycle. Mark claimed “all” the girls had taken him for a ride, but really, it had only been about half a dozen before graduation.

  “C’mon. Is there somewhere that we can sit down and talk?”

  She glanced upward towards the sunroom roof but said, “Not really. Not unless you’re able to climb up that wall.”

  He considered asking her to boost him up. The thought of her strong, clawed hands lifting him into the air was... interesting. Unfortunately, he was still healing (though at a tremendously advanced rate), and his ribs would likely hurt.

  For half a second, he wasn’t sure what to say, then, as what she was wearing registered for the first time, he blurted out, “Aren’t you cold out here?”

  She wore only a light man’s sweatshirt and jeans and was barefoot in the mud. While not exactly arctic cold, it was chilly and would grow colder as the sun set. She glanced down, following his gaze to her paw-like feet. In a rumble that contained an element of ‘duh,’ she said, “Yes, but there are no shoes in my size. Nothing I try to make lasts.”

  “That’s got to be miserable.” He wondered if he could design her some boots.

  She shrugged.

  “Think you can fit in the front seat of the truck?”

  In a voice as small as her bass rumble would allow, she said, “I thought you would be terrified of me.”

  He scratched his jaw. “You’re still Tara, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why would I be scared of you? C’mon. I’ll turn the heater all the way up.” He firmly told himself this was a girl he’d liked and wanted to know better since kindergarten. She wasn’t going to hurt him, despite her change in appearance. The last thing she needed to hear was that she made him nervous. His fears were his own to deal with.

  Somewhat to his surprise, she did climb into the passenger seat. After joining her, he dug into the bags of groceries and found two bottles of soda. He handed her one, looking sideways as he did.

  “You remembered I like Strawberry Shasta.” She sounded surprised. She was jammed into the passenger seat, head ducked down, knees tucked up, but she was also visibly relaxing. Part of that might be the warmth, but he hoped she was also growing more confident that he wasn’t about to run screaming or attack her, or something stupid like that.

  She looked like Tara. Everything about her body was different except her eyes, but somehow, the way she moved, her expressions, and the cadence of her voice were all the same.

  He noted, “You always had one with your lunch.”

  “Not always. Only before Granny...” she trailed off. “My dad’s a bit of a POS.”

  “You want to talk about what happened?” he asked gently. “From what your uncle Gus says, your father probably knows you’re here.”

  She closed her eyes and let out a ragged breath. He thought she was about to cry, and hesitantly, he put a hand on her arm. The bicep under her coat sleeve was as hard as a rock. “Tara, it’s okay. You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  Tara glanced down at his hand, then said in a distant tone, “That’s a real Rolex, isn’t it?”

  He let her change the subject. “It was my father’s. My mom gave it to me recently. I think she’s trying to prove a point: I can’t afford the lifestyle I want on the income from the Junk Shop, and I’ll be tempted to sell it to pay for something. She wants me to go back to college, and either study theater or business...” he trailed off because if he kept down that path, he knew the resentment would bubble up.

  “The only thing I have of my Granny’s is a sword. Had, maybe. I dunno. If my father found it, it’s gone — he sold it once to a pawn shop, but I got it back.” She stared at his wrist. “You shouldn’t ever sell that watch. I know your father loved you. I used to see how he looked at you when he met you after school. Some things are worth more than money.”

  Avery had never seen Tara’s father pick her up even once. Starting in Junior High, she’d always walked home, even in pouring rain or bitter winter wind. He wasn’t sure what happened to her mom, just that Tara didn’t seem to have one.

  “I need to drag my mom back into counseling,” Avery said to Tara. Then he realized that had been a bit of a non-sequitor, but he forged ahead, hoping she didn’t notice. “She gets better after a few sessions, and then it sticks for a while before she starts backsliding... Stacy, that’s Casey’s mom, says we should consider family therapy to be permanent maintenance for our relationship. My therapist says that I’ll always need to set boundaries with her and then stick to them.”

  Tara made a small, sympathetic noise.

  He loved the Junk Shop and the thrill of the hunt for treasures. Why couldn’t he just do what he had a passion for the rest of his life? “She controls my trust fund," he said, "and she fucking it. She's refusing to release the money to pay for this place, and it's so —"

  He abruptly realized that Tara was staring at him. Her ears drooped down, then were savagely pinned back. “I should have known you wouldn’t be able to keep your promise.”

  “Promise?” he said, blankly. What had set her off?

  “To buy this place! What’s going to happen to me?” She yanked the door latch hard and shoved the door open. Her groceries tumbled out of the foot well to the ground outside. She scrambled out, slammed the door, and stalked off into the trees, where she was quickly lost to his view.

  “Fuck.” He ran a hand over his face. She was likely terrified for her life, explaining the massive overreaction to his words — and with good justification. Guilt rose. She didn’t need to be so scared. He had a backup plan.

  Avery got out and collected the scattered groceries. Hoping she was still in earshot, he said loudly, “Tara! I swear to you, I’m not going to let you down. You’ll be safe. I promise!”

  There was no answer.

  He left the bags of food beside the back door and hurried back to the truck. He had some phone calls to make.