DAUGHTER OF DARKNESS

9

The stranger glanced at Kianna. She was sure he could see her flaming cheeks, her incredulous eyes, but he didn’t seem to care. He smiled at her mother. “Thank you for the offer, Ophelia. I’ll stay, but only if I can help in the meantime.”

Kianna stared at them shocked. Ophelia? He was already on a first-name basis with her mother?

“Well, now that you mention it …”

Her mother asked the stranger to take some equipment to the barn behind the house, where the smaller farming tools were stored. She mentioned something about a broken wagon and he told her he would look into it.

He offered a bow from his waist, and marched out of the house through the back door. From the window, Kianna watched the kids, who raced around the yard at the back of the house. The stranger made them laugh before heading to the barn. When she was sure he was out of earshot, she whirled on her mother.

“What were you thinking?" Kianna demanded. "Bringing a stranger into our house?”

Her mother picked up a pot and filled it with water. “Why are you being so mean? He seems like a gentleman.”

“But why? Nobody just helps for no reason.”

Her mother frowned at her. “Is that your view of the world? Oh, my dear, you need to believe there’s good out there.”

“What if he’s a criminal?”

“Kianna!” Her mother raised her voice and Kianna flinched. Her mother rarely yelled. “Stop this nonsense right now. Please, help me with dinner and be polite to Devon.” She handed a knife to Kianna. “Now, cut the carrots, please.”

Kianna took the knife, but as she sliced the carrots, her mind didn’t stop. A young man alone on the road … where was he going? Why would he offer to help and discard his plans to help her mother? She peeked out the window. Why was he now fixing the wagon? She saw nothing out of the ordinary about him.

He knelt on the ground beside the barn, tools spread around him, working on a broken wagon.

It didn’t feel like a coincidence.

But then … who was this man, and what did he want with her family?

Present

Kenna

I stood in the foyer and glanced to the living room. I had started peeling the old, stained paint from the walls this morning, but I was so freaking sick of working on the house for the last three days. We woke up early and went until late in the night, only stopping for meals or to discuss our plans for the future.

One of the main topics Lia and I discussed was her finding a job. We couldn’t live off the little cash we still had, and besides trying to get a job as a waitress somewhere, there wasn’t much I could do, not without a high school diploma. But Lia had finished high school and even started college before her life was stolen from her. She had now applied for every job position available in town—which weren’t many.

I had started looking at waitressing jobs, but Lia had threatened to take my recently acquired smartphone from me if I didn’t focus on studying.

Right now, I wanted to focus on the house, because there was no way I could live in a house falling apart.

If we stayed here for long.

Which I honestly doubted.

My mood soured in two seconds flat. Deciding I needed a break, I threw the scraper on the plastic covering the floor and marched to the kitchen to grab a snack. I opened the fridge and the cabinets, and per usual, nothing really appealed to me. I craved something sweet and soft … I could always bake a cake.

I had never cooked, but I was sure I could follow some videos on YouTube and bake a cake. It couldn’t be that hard. When Lia got back home from buying more supplies for our home remodel, she would be impressed.

I clicked on the YouTube app on my phone and—

The doorbell rang.

My insides froze, and the phone slipped from my hand, landing hard on the wooden floor.

“No, no, no,” I muttered, both as a request not to have broken my brand-new phone, and for me to be mistaken about the doorbell. It had been my imagination.

The doorbell rang again.

Thousands of thoughts raced through my mind. It was Slater and his goons. They had found us, and now our brief peace and quiet would only serve as a torment our own memories inflicted upon us and—

A knock echoed through the door.

I frowned.

If it was Slater and his goons, they wouldn’t ring the bell or knock on the door. They would break down the door, without warning, even if it was the middle of the day and the neighbors could see us.

Still, as I walked to the door, I channeled my power. The lights in the foyer flickered, and I inhaled deeply, calming myself. The flickering stopped.

Holding my breath, I opened the door.

A girl with short brown curls and bright hazel eyes smiled at me. “Oh, hi.” She dropped her hand, which had been about to rap on the door again. “I knew you were here.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. She was probably my age, and she had a t-shirt from Misty Hill High School football team. A student and probably a cheerleader.

“Hm, can I help you?” I asked.

She extended her hand to me. “I’m Caroline, your neighbor.” I stared at her hand, but didn’t take it. Never losing the three thousand-watt smile, she dropped the hand and pointed to the house to my right. “I live there with my parents.” She bounced on the balls of her feet. “I noticed someone had moved to this house a couple of days ago, but it was only this morning that I saw you and your mother, I’m assuming.”

“Yes,” I muttered.

“I was leaving for school, so I couldn’t come say hi. But now I’m back and I wanted to say hi.” She raised her hand and waved at me. “Hi.”

“Hi.”