Opposition

“Don’t forget the gun.” It was tucked in the back of my jeans, like a gangsta. His eyes searched mine and then he nodded. “I’m going to climb out after you, and Kat . . .” His stare turned intense, deep, and thorough. “If I have to talk to you a certain way or act like I did back in Idaho, I’m sorry.”

“I get why. I can deal.”

Daemon held my gaze a moment longer and then nodded. Drawing in a shallow breath, I turned and opened the car door. He slid out behind me and immediately curved a hand around the base of my neck. I imagined that the gesture looked like one of control and dominance, but there was something soothing in the weight of his hand. I knew he was there.

His sister had a hold of Archer’s arm as she led him toward the steps on the front porch leading to their house. Dee paused only to cast a look back at Daemon, and I had no idea if they were communicating or not, since there was a chance another Luxen could pick it up.

Daemon steered me around the front of the SUV, and as we walked closer to my house, I noted the weeds once again. Vines had formed, and they were so thick and numerous that they had started to climb up the sides of the porch, wrapping around the railings.

My gaze flickered toward the door.

It was open, with just the glass storm door closed. My heart was really going at it in my chest and I had to force myself to walk slowly, like Daemon was leading me instead of me leading him.

The steps groaned under our feet and the familiar creak from a loose board on the porch caused me to jerk a little.

“There are definitely Luxen nearby,” he said under his breath.

Meaning they could be anywhere, in the surrounding woods or inside the house. With their presence so strong and thick, they could be sitting in the living room for all we knew. Shivers ran up and down my body as he reached around me with his free hand and opened the door. Our footsteps quiet, we stepped inside and were welcomed by the slightly warmer air of the interior and the scent I’d missed—fresh linen.

Tears pricked at my eyes as my gaze swung around the foyer. Things looked the same. Oh God, there were Amazon boxes by the door, along with media mail envelopes, and I knew they were full of books that had probably kept coming until publicists realized I hadn’t updated my blog in many, many months.

My book bag was next to the lovely pile of unopened mail, along with my sandals. Mom had left them there, like she knew I was coming back. That she wanted them there for me. My lower lip started to tremble, and I blinked furiously to keep the tears at bay.

We walked farther into the house, making no sound as we passed the doorway to the empty living room. I looked up the stairwell and then down the hall, toward the laundry room. The memory of dancing in my socks and falling on my butt when Daemon had let himself in, surprising me, rushed over me. The breath I took was too shaky. So many memories. They hurt in a good and bad way, wholly bittersweet. Daemon gently squeezed the back of my neck, and then we entered the dining room. From where we stood, I could see the kitchen.

My heart stopped in my chest and then sped up.

Daemon’s hand tightened.

I saw her—I saw Mom.

She was standing at the sink, her back to us, and oh my God, it was her—shiny blond hair pulled up in a neat bun at the back of her head. She wasn’t wearing scrubs, but dark jeans and a light sweater. Tears spilled out of my eyes. I couldn’t stop them.

“Mom?” My voice cracked.

Her spine stiffened for a second and I started forward, done with the pretenses. Daemon grabbed at me, but I was fast when I needed to be, and I broke free.

Mom turned.

She was here. She was okay. She was alive.

“Kat!” Daemon shouted.

In a blur of tears I couldn’t even see through, I was an emotional melting pot as I raced across the kitchen, around the table, reaching her in seconds, and I got all grabby, wrapping my arms around her. “Mom!”

I held her tight, inhaling the scent of her perfume and letting it wash over me, easing some of the knots in my—

Suddenly, arms were around my waist and I was hauled back against a hard chest and stomach. My brain raced. I didn’t understand what was happening. Then my feet were skidding across the floor as I was shoved behind Daemon. He kept his arm out, backing me up.

“Daemon, stop.” I struggled to get around him, knowing I was supposed to play it cool, but this was different. No one was in here but us. We were okay and I wanted my mom.

“Katy.” Daemon spoke my name, and the hoarseness of it, the way it seemed to punch out of him, caused me to go very still.

I lifted my head, breathing heavily as I peered around Daemon and . . . and I got a look at Mom, a real good look.

My whole world imploded—shattered into broken little pieces that were jagged and cut deep, slicing my insides into shreds and ripping me apart.

Her eyes—they were a bright, unnatural blue.

So blue that they looked like two polished sapphires, and Mom’s eyes . . . they should’ve been hazel, more green than brown, depending on her mood.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No. No.”

Mom tilted her head to the side as she looked from me to Daemon, and then she moved her lips into a smile that lacked any warmth. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

No. No. No.

I wrenched free of Daemon, backing up as I stared at Mom—no, not Mom. This wasn’t Mom. It wasn’t her. The cold blue eyes followed my movements and her lips continued to curl up as she watched me with such apathy I could taste it.