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"What's up?" Dad said, looking from me to my brother.
"Ash has beer in his room. He was offering me some."
Ash's eyes narrowed.
"What kind?" Dad said as he opened the fridge and took out a pop can. "If it's Labatt's, I'll buy one off you. I'm all out and I'm not going to town until Tuesday."
Ash mumbled under his breath. He hadn't quite figured my parents out yet. If they didn't complain about the beer, he thought they were just accommodating him, treading carefully until they were comfortable enough laying down stricter rules. Which was true, in a way, but only that, when the time came, Dad would insist that if Ash wanted beer in the house, he had to keep it in the fridge, not hide it in his room. And if they caught him with anything stronger before he was nineteen, there would be trouble.
I started cutting up brownies. When Dad reached for one, Ash said, "Watch it. She's quick with that knife. Those are for her picnic with Daniel."
"Daniel?" Dad said.
I put the brownies into the box. "About five-ten? Blond? I think you've met him."
Dad and Ash exchanged a look.
"Been spending a lot of time with Daniel lately," Dad said.
"I've been spending a lot of time with Daniel since I was five. Stop. Now."
"I'm just saying. You know how I feel. Daniel--"
I brandished the knife. "If you say he takes care of me again, I'm going to have the Nasts open a time portal and send you back to the nineteenth century, where I'm sure you'll be much happier."
"What's wrong with saying he takes care of you?" Ash said. "Are we supposed to want you dating a guy who doesn't?"
"Not answering that," I said as I headed for the stairs. "I need to get ready. Ash? Touch the food and I won't take you for a driving lesson tomorrow. Dad? Touch it and I'll make you take him for a driving lesson tomorrow."
Dad backed away from the counter. Ash scowled. I laughed and continued upstairs.
Ash, Kenjii, and I walked into our "town." Badger Lake was the name of it, imaginatively named after, well, the lake in the middle, which was really more the size of a large pond, but no one was getting technical.
It was a Saturday, but construction crews were hard at work, as they had been since the frost broke. Everyone who'd come to Badger Lake with us had a house now, and several of the community buildings were done. More houses were going up, for families who'd moved into trailers or were coming soon--town support personnel, mainly. They were Cabal families, those with special skills that the Nasts deemed worth the security risk.
While most of them performed regular town duties--nurses, teachers, security, even a shopkeeper--they all had special skills, too. Skills that would help us grow into . . . well, I'm not sure. Deadly assassins? Super spies? Crack mercenaries? Or just really good, multi-talented Cabal employees. They weren't saying, of course, but from the type of instructors we were getting, it seemed to be leaning toward the first three. We had three experts in fighting skills alone. I was starting fencing lessons Monday, a skill they deemed suitable for a cat's fast reflexes. Somehow I doubted they were training me for the Olympic team.
Did we balk at any of that? No. If they wanted to make us super soldiers, we were happy to take their training. And, someday, use it to get free.
A couple of the new houses were for new kids. One was a Project Genesis subject they'd tracked down, with her mother. Rachelle Rodgers was a fire half-demon that Chloe and the others had known. The other house was for someone from Salmon Creek who seemed to be showing signs of powers. They weren't telling us who it was yet, in case they were wrong. They were in talks to bring in Chloe's father, too. Her aunt had been in contact with him, mostly to stop him from looking for her. Now that we were with the Cabals, there was no need to worry about that, so Chloe had seen him for the first time in six months and they were talking about bringing him to Badger Creek.
Ash, Kenjii, and I walked along the main street, dirt now, though they'd already paved the road into the town. Daniel and Corey lived on the edge of the lake nearest that paved road, next to the main community building, where Chief Carling had her office.
As we walked, someone hailed us. It was Antone. He came around his house, hammer in hand, Moreno trailing behind, beer in hand.
"Ah, Daniel's party," Antone said, waving at the picnic basket and wrapped gift. "Say happy birthday to him for me." He shifted the hammer to his other hand. "So, we're still on for Sunday dinner?"
He looked anxious, as if he expected us to back out. We'd been doing Sunday dinner every other week for six months now, but I think he kept expecting us to make excuses. We didn't. It wasn't an easy relationship. Maybe it never would be. But Ash and I understood how important this was to him, and even if we'd never be a family in the way he'd dreamed of, we'd be something.
I assured him we were coming.
"If it's still warm, we'll eat on my new back deck," he said. "Which I hope to have done . . . if someone exchanges his beer for a hammer."
"Hey, I have two hands," Moreno said. "So, kiddies, are we still on for our dysfunctional family moment? Lessons at the range next week?"
"Wednesday after school," I said. "We'll be there."
"What?" Antone looked a
