“So, you’re a prince?” Glitch repeated. Still oblivious.
“What good would it do, Reaper?” Cameron said, coming to stand dangerously close to Jared. “She doesn’t need to know.” He tilted his head toward Brooklyn. “None of them need to know.”
Jared’s head tilted in curiosity. “They have a right to know what they are.”
“And what are they?” Cameron asked, closing the distance between them.
“Not again,” Brooklyn said, but her parents had wrapped her in their arms and were pulling her out of harm’s way. “Mom, Dad, it’s okay. They do this crap all the time.”
“Casey,” Glitch’s mom said, waving him toward her. She had soft brown hair and startlingly green eyes, her coloring so opposite that of her Native American husband’s who beckoned Casey closer as well. “Casey, come here.”
Glitch shrugged and threaded through the crowd to her. “Is he seriously a prince?” he asked in a hushed tone.
She clutched him to her, then turned back.
Jared answered Cameron, and as usual, his answer didn’t actually answer anything. “They are taken.”
“Calling the kettle black, now?” Cameron asked, his blue eyes glittering with a not-so-subtle warning. “Maybe your new friends need to know what they call you. The shadow prince. The sin-eater. The grim reaper.” He leaned tauntingly close. “The Angel of De—”
In an instant, Jared pushed Cameron so hard, he flew across the room and slammed into the back wall. The house literally shook with the force, and everyone ducked, though they needn’t have. Cameron landed well above their heads, then fell forward to land solidly on his hands and feet. I cringed. His body had left an indentation in our drywall. I wondered if it was just me, or if Jared really was growing stronger with every minute that passed. Not that Cameron cared.
Mr. Lusk had started forward, but a couple of the men held him back as Cameron coughed and fought for air. After a tense moment, he stood, squared his shoulders, then gave Jared a measured look, one that held such hatred, my insides groaned in response.
“Now we’re talking,” he said, thrilled that Jared had given him an excuse for another world war.
Just as both boys started toward each other, I rushed in between them and shouted as loud as I possibly could. “That is it!” I glared from one to the other as my grandmother gasped in horror. “I have absolutely had it!” I turned and poked Cameron in the chest. “Really? This again, really?” Then I gave my full attention to Jared. “And how old are you exactly?”
“Lor, honey,” Grandma said, her voice soft with fear.
“I swear, if either of you lifts another finger toward the other, I will murder you both in your sleep.”
Brooklyn broke free from her parents and marched over to Cameron. “This is going to hurt you a lot more than it hurts me.” She reached up and took him by the ear.
“Ouch, holy crap,” he said, bending to her will. And her razor-sharp nails.
She led him to the now-closed kitchen door, then turned back to Jared. He offered a surrendering nod, relinquishing his hold on the door. She opened it and sat Cameron at the table before sitting on the chair next to him.
Cameron rubbed his ear. “That hurt.”
A few of us followed them into the kitchen. I sat beside Brooke and motioned for Jared to sit next to me while my grandparents, the sheriff, Glitch, and a few others gathered around. More filed in as room allowed, and I realized for the first time the parents of the creature whose name shall not be spoken aloud were there. They were so … blond.
“If we can now have a decent conversation,” I said, issuing a silent warning to the boys, “I would like to find out from my grandparents exactly what is going on. And you,” I added, looking directly at Jared, “aka, the Angel of Death—a blank I filled in days ago when Cameron first mentioned it—will stop trying to kill said Cameron every time he brings up your vast and varied nicknames.” I couldn’t blame Cameron for calling Jared the grim reaper. I’d done some research, and in many cultures the reaper and the Angel of Death were one and the same, interchangeable entities that took the souls of humans for any number of reasons. “And you,” I continued, nailing Cameron with a baleful look, “will stop trying to pick a fight with the freaking Angel of Death. Really?” My brows shot up in disbelief. “The Angel of Death? You can’t find a defensive lineman to pick on?”
Cameron shrugged, clearly ashamed. “They’re all scared of me.”
Well, that certainly fit the story Glitch had told us a few days earlier. But still. This was getting ridiculous. Cameron’s dad tousled his hair, and I would’ve smiled if I weren’t considering ritualistic murder.
“Now, Grandma, Grandpa,” I said, contemplating each in turn, “what is going on? How do you know about Jared?”
“Maybe I should make some coffee,” Grandma said, but Betty Jo beat her to it. As others set out food and drink for the masses—the Sanctuary liked nothing better than gathering and eating—Sheriff Villanueva and Mr. Lusk brought in more chairs.
“Grandpa?” I asked, begging him with my eyes. There were too many secrets. Too many unknowns. I just wanted to find my place in the world. And Jared’s, because I really wanted him to stay. “How do you know what Jared is?”
“Sweetheart,” he began, his mouth a grim line, “this all goes back to way before you were born.”