Page 84 of Strange Lights

“Of course you could have, Reggie. You saw what I am; you saw the monster I turn into.”

“That’s hardly a fair comparison,” I snort. “A little fur and fangs aren’t what make a true monster. And it’s not like you have a choice.”

“Of course I have a choice. Maybe not in what sort of creature I am, but I have a choice every time I decide how I live my life. I have a choice with every hard decision I make. You didn’t get to pick your⁠—I hesitate to say ‘mother’⁠—but Adele, you didn’t get to pick her. And what is your genetic code but a few random strings of numbers? You still get to pick who you are.”

“Exactly, and now you saw who that person was and what they did.”

“All I’ve ever asked is for you to let me know you. Let me make up my own mind.”

“And if you don’t understand, if you think I’m a bad person . . .”

“Then maybe you deserve better than me if I can’t look past the parts of you that aren’t perfect,” he says. “You think you’re the only one with any darkness in them?”

I hiccup a laugh. He has no idea. But he has no idea because I haven’t ever shared it with him. So I do. I tell him my story, the parts he hasn’t already learned in the last twenty-four hours.

“I’ve never thought that you were perfect,” he says. “I’ve always seen your flaws⁠—”

“Very comforting,” I cut in dryly.

“That’s one of them. Interrupting. I wasn’t finished,” Calvin says with a soft laugh. “I love you, you know.”

Relief washes over me, as soothing as the first gasp of oxygen after a dive. I didn’t realize how much I’ve needed to hear those words, didn’t realize I’ve been drowning until he threw me this lifeline.

“At first, I tried not to, back when I thought you were nothing but a con artist who stole all my cases. But I saw the way you loved Eldi so fiercely, and I couldn’t hate you even when I tried. I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you with her. I admitted it to myself when I found you breaking and entering into a not-haunted house to perform secret good deeds in the middle of the night. I love you, and I want you to know that, even if you’re not ready to⁠—”

Calvin, always patiently waiting for me to catch up. Fixing my cactus even though he didn’t know what it meant to me. Accepting the scraps I gave him and never pushing for more. Sharing his life with me while I held him at a distance. He’s still talking, but I can’t hold back anymore.

“I love you too, Calvin,” I interrupt. “Sorry it took me so long to figure out my shit. I’d say I’ll be better in the future, but that’s probably inaccurate⁠—”

Calvin cuts me off with a kiss, and I forget the point I was trying to make. I fall asleep wrapped in his arms, and I think maybe he will stay, even knowing my past. Maybe I can let myself hope this time.

Meredith wakes me when I still feel far from rested, and the gentle rocking of the Winnebago tells me we’re already moving again.

Zara glares at me when I appear in the doorway. “We’ve been awake for ages,” she says, watching Manny as he prepares lunch. “We need to get moving.”

“She didn’t sleep very well,” Meredith explains.

“Did you know there’s an undead raccoon loose in your basement?” Zara says sharply.

“Bandit? Yeah, he’s just some old haunted taxidermy. He’s harmless.”

Zara snorts in disgust.

“I told you he just wanted a cuddle,” Meredith says.

During the hours I’ve been asleep, Adele’s plan has become apparent. In the wake of government disclosure, and our betrayal and escape, she, too, has gone public. Her version of the story is everywhere. Alien invasion is imminent; there are monsters among us ready to act. She paints a vivid picture of planet-wide destruction and death. She insists everyone turn any Chupacabras over to her and Agency 51, who are prepared to defend humanity.

My blood runs cold as I see the first images of children like Eldi, handed over to Agency 51 and Adele. Meredith says Adele wants to destroy them, reverse-engineer their technology for herself. Zara says she only wants to kill the Chupacabras for her own twisted satisfaction. I tell them how I secretly tethered my mother for years, hiding in her shadow while she pulled at raw power in vain, failed time and time again to accomplish something she never properly explained even to me. Zara admits how she took my place after I left. The Gauntlet, too, has allowed Adele a modicum of control over her magic again, yet she still needs my help enough to have attempted that bargain with me. When I bring up the strange things Adele has said, about magical gates and things lost to the void, about sacrifice and purpose, when I say that maybe there’s more to it, we argue in circles. She clearly hates the Chupacabras, enough to use the children as bait to lure the rest. But all this just to kill them?

We’ve reached an impasse, though, and we have to move forward anyway, despite my nagging hunch that we are missing something. One thing is certain: Adele means harm to Eldi and the rest of the Chupacabras, whatever they are. There is little time left to save them. We need as many allies as we can muster. I swallow my shame and dial a phone number I’ve still got memorized.

Tumbleweeds crunch under the Winnebago wheels, and Winnie swerves to run over an extra few like a child stomping on fallen autumn leaves as we pull up to the Waffle House in the desert. The neon-yellow-and-red facade of the building is unexpectedly comforting and bright, beaming under fluorescent lights that outshine the dim twilight of a desert sunset. Pungent waves of sweet maple syrup and the slight musty tang of air-conditioning wash over us as we enter, Zara in the lead.

The first inkling I have of the depths of Zara’s plotting is the wide eyes of Bear at the host station and the speed at which he scrambles to make phone calls when Zara whispers something in his ear. She beckons for us to follow her as she bypasses him entirely, heading for a table like she owns the place.

The obnoxious teenage boy stares at Zara like he can’t decide whether he wants to ask for her autograph or run away from her, screaming. Waffles smothered in strawberry syrup and whipped cream are at our table before we’ve even moved, along with a side of bacon. The contrast is startling. Maybe Calvin should reevaluate his one-star review.

With a bang as it hits the wall so hard it rebounds, the front door flies open, and the usually unflappable Gemma stands there panting, a coffee stain on her shirt and two different shoes on her feet. She looks like she hasn’t slept well since we last saw her. A few papers float to the ground from the messy stack she’s carrying in her arms. She stares at us in shock.