I wish I were small again. Then, maybe, it would be enough still.
It doesn’t feel like his presence can fix any of this. It can’t fix who I am, who I’m not. It can’t give me what I want. I don’t know which part of that is the worst. Pop can fix anything—he’s a master mechanic and builder—but he can’t fix me.
“Penelope,” he starts. His eyes are on me. He opens his mouth, and then closes it again. His brow furrows up and I know it’s the battle from the car again.
My phone beeps in tune with Pop’s. It’s the WNN; I don’t have to look to know that. He pulls out his phone and scrolls the screen. “John Lebow was attacked on his porch.”
My eyes shoot up. His porch? Demons are getting ballsy. That seems unreal.
Three Enforcers pass by us with their little gold triangles. My heart jumps into my throat. That’s where I belong, what I want, and I know it as much as I know how to read.
“Pop,” I say. I want to tell him why I need this. Why I need him to support me.
One of the Enforcers backtracks to us.
“Frank, we could probably use your help,” he says. His name is Jim Wooley. His daughter, Elyse, is in our ST class. Jim pushes up his large black glasses on the bridge of his nose and sniffs. He reminds me of a beagle. He’s tall and lanky, and his eyes are a little droopy.
Pop looks at me. The battle is clear on his face—and this is one that I know all too well. I can’t be left alone in case a demon comes. I show Pop my new necklace from Connie with the little salt-filled glass vial.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I even have on iron earrings.”
They sound inefficient, but you can do some damage with a stud in the eye.
Pop runs a hand through his thinning hair. “The Lebow place?” Jim nods. “I’ll meet you in five.” Then Jim is gone, running off to join the other Enforcers.
“I can walk myself home,” I say through gritted teeth.
Pop huffs. “I heard about yesterday.”
My throat constricts a little. He can’t know about that. “What about yesterday?”
“Phelps and Mayer reported you at the scene of a demon attack. A Non died yesterday, Penelope, and you were there. That could’ve been you,” he says.
Thank God it’s not the demon from earlier yesterday. I mean, not that this is better. I should’ve known they would tell Pop. Gran was retired from teaching and she still heard about anything we did wrong. Pop hasn’t quit the CEASE Squad yet; he still went on patrol whenever he wasn’t moonlighting at the garage, and my name would’ve definitely been mentioned to him.
“You can’t go looking for trouble just because you’re taking the exams now,” he says.
“I wasn’t! I was on a run and I stopped. I didn’t mean to find the demon, Pop. It happened. I’m okay. I had salt.”
“It takes more than salt sometimes, Penelope. You have to be careful.”
“Grandpa.” I reach out to him. “I’m fine.”
Pop shakes his head. “We operate the way we do for a reason. You have to be trained to take them out, and you aren’t. Not fully. Yes, we encourage everyone in the community to be prepared, but we don’t expect them to fight without proper training. It’s how we’ve done it for centuries.”
“I know,” I snap.
“Stay out of the way, Penelope. Your grandma would lose her mind; you know how she worries.”
“Okay, Pop,” I say. Pop nods, and I know that’s the end. My grandpa may be nice and hopeful, but when he was done talking, he was done talking.
Chapter Six
I need someone to invent a coffee IV drip for mornings when I have to be awake with the sunrise. I slump down with my Iced Rage coffee drink of deliciousness in a seat on an oversize couch in the back corner of St. Elmo’s Coffee Pub, waiting for Ric to meet me. This place is halfway between our houses, and it has the best coffee. I take a sip, then a bite of my bagel, and log in to WNN on my phone. There were more demon attacks last night. The cases are spread out among the other regions, but it’s still a lot more than normal. We’ve had a pretty quiet year but now they seem to be in full force. It’s weird.
My eyes drift up and I see Carter walking toward me. I groan, mouth full of bagel.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Pen.”
“To think I thought the day couldn’t start off any worse,” I say.
He smiles. Man, he does that a lot. I am either super amusing or he needs to get some funnier people in his life. “Anyone sitting here?”
Carter doesn’t let me answer, just sweeps my feet off the chair and plops down, coffee in hand. He takes a long sip, his eyes on me. I scan the room for the quickest exit. I’ve hidden myself in the back corner and he’s blocking the only way to the door. Note to self: sit closer to the exit.
I sigh. “What can I do for you, Carter? I’m sure you’re here for a reason—considering all the effort you must’ve put into finding me here.”
“This is my favorite spot, and I think I recommended it,” he says.
I shrug. “It’s everyone’s favorite.” But if he loved it, how had I never seen him here before?
“Maybe I missed your attitude,” he says.
I flip him off and he chuckles, which only frustrates me more. I try to play it cool, but there’s an unease in my stomach again. My eyes drift around the coffee shop to look at something. There are only other zombified people, shuffling in line to get coffee. It’s a little depressing.
I roll my eyes. “Right. If you wanted someone to be mean to you I’m sure you could find them.”
“But no one does it as well as you,” he says. I hate that smile. Perfect smile. Perfect lips, even if the top one’s just a little bigger. It’s cute.
What’s wrong with you, Penelope? Drink the coffee.
“You haven’t met the right people,” I say, glancing at my phone. Ric should be here soon and we still have forty minutes until class. I convinced him to go early with me, so I could work in the library, now that I have official access. I look back at him and expect a smile; it’s not there. He’s not kidding. Which is ridiculous. He doesn’t even know me. “I have to go. See you around.”
I stand and swing my bag over my shoulder. Blocked exit or not, I’m getting out of here.
Carter follows me. Past a woman with a crying baby, and an older woman trying to order in a different language. The bell dings when I open the door. It’s only two or three steps outside into the crisp morning air when he grabs my arm.
“Just wait,” he says. There are cars beeping, moving along the streets, bumper-to-bumper in morning rush hour. Doors are opening, closing, and I’m not doing anything except standing there. Carter is waiting for something. Whatever he wants, I can’t give it. Instinct wants me to run, to kick him where it counts and take off. I can’t fully form a plan of action.
“Look, I think we should talk somewhere. I mean I would like to talk somewhere. With you.”
“I have nothing to offer you.”
“Not even friendship?”
I cross my arms. “You don’t want to be my friend.”
“I do,” he says, stuffing his hands into his jacket.
“Why?”
“We can’t talk about it here, but I know I’m not wrong.”
“What does that mean?”
He looks around, but there’s no one else close enough to hear us. No one even notices the two of us standing there. “Meet me. Let’s talk.”
“I’m on my way somewhere—I’m going to be late, actually.” I don’t even let him respond while I search for my car keys.