The first envelope I grabbed was addressed to Occupant, at 104 Douglas Circle, Crystal Springs, Mississippi. I read the address to Michael, and he read it back to me as he wrote it down, spelling the name of the town to make sure he’d gotten it right.
I shoved the envelope back into the mailbox and went inside, locking the door behind me. A single dead bolt wouldn’t do much good if Miguel got back before we left, but it might at least give me some warning.
“Listen, Michael, I need to talk to Daddy. Now.”
“He’s coming. He was meeting with the council.” Something scratched against the mouthpiece on his end of the connection. He’d covered it up. “Wait, Faythe, here he comes. Dad, she wants to talk to you. She’s with Abby, and they’re both fine.”
Another pause as the phone changed hands. Then I heard my father’s voice. “Faythe? Is it really you?”
“Yeah, Daddy, it’s me.” Nerves tightened my chest as I spoke, and I resolved, once the excitement was over, to have a normal, calm conversation with my father. Just one, to see what it would feel like without the usual emotional charge.
He exhaled in relief, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was good to be missed. “Are you really okay?” Daddy asked, and I heard the tension in his voice. He expected the worst.
“I’m fine. Michael has the address.” I stopped by the fridge again and snagged an unopened package of cold cuts. Ripping open the bag, I stuffed four slices into my mouth, barely pausing to chew them before I swallowed, washing them down with more soda.
“I know. He’s already on the other line, sending the closest search party your way. We had five guys in Louisiana. They can be there in an hour and a half, barring catastrophe.” There was the barest of pauses as he inhaled, clearly steeling himself to hear the details. “Tell me what happened.”
I rubbed my forehead, trying to decide how to begin. “I wasn’t running away,” I said, leaning against the kitchen counter for support. “I want you to know that. I just went out to the barn to think.”
“We can talk about that later. It doesn’t matter now.” A chair creaked, and I knew he’d sat down behind his desk. “Are you in any immediate danger?”
“I don’t think so.” I closed my eyes, wrestling with indecision. I’d have to tell him everything eventually, but so much of it would be awkward over the phone. Taking a deep breath, I plunged ahead with the necessary information. “I bit through one guy’s throat and locked another in the basement.” I paused, waiting for his reaction, but none came. His exhale was long and smooth, and very controlled. He had something to say but was saving it for a better time. So I continued, “I haven’t seen the stray I fought on campus, and the other two were already gone when I broke out, and they shouldn’t be back until tomorrow.”
“Good,” he said, and I knew he had his emotions in check. Having established that the immediate threat was over, he turned his attention to the next course of action. “I want you to take Abby and go to the nearest public building. A store, a gas station, anything you can find, so long as there are plenty of people around in case—”
“We can’t leave yet, Daddy,” I said, interrupting him. “I’m still looking for the key to Abby’s cage, or for something strong enough to knock the lock off. And I’m not in any shape to be seen in public.”“Why? Are you hurt?” His voice was tight with anger, for once not directed at me.
“Just bruised,” I said, comforted when he exhaled in relief. “But I’m barefoot, and I’m sure my face looks like hell.”
“Are you sure you’re safe until the guys get there?”
“As safe as I’d be anywhere else,” I said, despite the voice of dissension in my head screaming for me to run away as fast as I could. “There’s no one left here to be scared of.”
“Who are they?”
“You know about Sean, and there was another named Eric, but he’s dead now. Luiz is the cat I fought on campus, but no one’s seen him in a couple of days. R—” I stopped in midsyllable, for a last second rephrase. “Miguel might have killed him, but I don’t think we can be sure of that yet. Miguel’s the jungle cat they smelled on Sara. He’s in charge.”
“The jungle cat. I’ll be damned,” he said, and I choked on a mouthful of soda. I’d never heard my father cuss before. “What about the fifth?”
I hesitated, thinking of my mother. Finding out about Ryan would kill her. “Are you alone?”
“I can be. Why?”
“Just make sure no one can hear you, and I’ll tell you the rest.”
He cleared the room while I finished off the lunch meat and drained the can of soda. Out of habit, I threw my trash away and rinsed my hands at the sink. Then I went in search of the key to Abby’s cage.
“Okay, it’s just me now,” Daddy said as I scanned the living room, picking through junk piled on end tables made of used fruit crates. “I take it you know the cat in question?”
I put one hand over my eyes, as if that would shield me from his reaction. “It’s Ryan.”
Silence, as he considered what I’d said. “Ryan.” Anyone who didn’t know my father might have assumed that he was calm because his voice was steady. I knew better. Daddy’s temper was like lava, slow-moving but unyielding, and hot enough to incinerate anything in its path.
“Yeah…Ryan.” I tossed threadbare couch cushions to the floor. “But before you decide what to do with him, you should know a few things.” I shoved my hands between the seat of the couch and the back, feeling for the key.
“What things?”
The living room had produced no keys, but on the right, a hallway led to four more doors.
“He didn’t want to be involved at all,” I said. “He only cooperated with Miguel to save his own life, and Mom’s. They told him they’d go after Mom, and he believed them.” I opened the first door on the left and inhaled deeply. From the scent alone, I knew I’d found Sean’s room. I didn’t stop to look; he didn’t have keys.
“That’s no excuse,” my father said, his voice as smooth and hard as polished stone. “They could never have gotten to your mother. Ryan should have—”
“I know. I’ve already been over all that with him.” I opened the second door and inhaled again. Bingo. It reeked of Miguel, and his room was a wreck. It would take forever to search.
“I’m not saying he shouldn’t be punished,” I said, picking through empty candy wrappers and loose change on the dresser. “I was tempted to rip his tongue out myself. I’m just saying that none of this was his idea, and he didn’t go along voluntarily.”
A strange grating sound met my ears through the phone as I squatted to search a small trash can beside the dresser, in case the key had fallen in. At first, I didn’t know what I was hearing, but then I understood: Daddy was grinding his teeth. “Go on,” he said, his voice barely audible.
Frustrated, I shoved the can aside. It didn’t matter how little Ryan had participated and why, because being involved at all was bad enough. Even if my father was willing to spare Ryan’s life—and it wasn’t looking good—at least two other Prides would demand my brother’s blood. Unless I could give them a good enough reason not to…
“He’s still in contact with Miguel and Sean,” I blurted, then rushed on before I lost my nerve. “Daddy, we can use him, if the council is willing to let him live.”
“Use him for what?” he barked over the line.
A fur coat, I thought, but held my tongue. Daddy certainly didn’t need any suggestions on what to do with traitors. His imagination was far more capable than mine in that respect. “To catch them.”
“What did you have in mind?”
I fell on my rear on the filthy carpet, stunned by his response. I hadn’t expected my father to care what I thought, and here he was asking for my opinion. Encouraged, I took a breath and jumped into the deep end of the pool. My father’s end. “Sean and Miguel are checking in with him by phone. If they call and he doesn’t answer, they’ll know something’s up, and they’ll run. And we may never catch them. But if we can get him to answer like nothing’s happened, they’ll keep going, and we can be there waiting for them.”
Daddy’s chair squeaked as he sat up suddenly. “You know where they’re going?”
“Yeah. They want one more girl.” Which reminded me that I still hadn’t told him what they wanted us for. There would be time to explain that later. Or maybe I should let Ryan have the honor…
One by one, I opened Miguel’s drawers, tossing clothes to the floor. Luckily, two of the four drawers were empty, another indication of how temporary their living arrangements were meant to be.
“Who are they after?” Daddy asked.
I hesitated, leaning against the empty dresser.
“Faythe?” His voice was hard and dark, if it was possible for a sound to be dark. “Tell me where they’re going. Now.” It was his business tone, the one no one ever challenged—until now. I couldn’t let Miguel get away. Not after what he’d done to Sara and Abby. Not after what he’d tried to do to me. I’d go after them on my own if I had to, but I stood a much better chance with my father’s help. And I knew how to get it.