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The horses were the one saving grace she discovered while living in New Walsh. In the early days after moving in with her father, she spent most of her time wandering the massive property behind his house.
The presence of so much empty land set New Walsh apart from the busier town of Ridgerton. It was quieter, too, with plenty of open space that invited exploration. One day, she strayed too far north and found a small white barn, where, just outside in the neighboring field, grazed three beautiful horses.
It didn’t matter that Bunny, the old palomino, had a swayback and was far too brittle to be of much use. Or that Esther, the gentle mare with a glorious chestnut mane, had a long, jagged scar marring her left flank—animal attack, Loren assumed.
Xavier, with his ink-black coat and proud posture, was the only one of the three who truly seemed valuable. Too valuable, maybe, to spend his days cooped up in a small barn with two nags. But he was skittish. Loren could barely pet him, though he seemed to have no trouble snatching bits of apple from her hands.
Once the horses were fed, Loren curled up in the corner of the barn and waited for the rain to pass, telling herself that she’d make it home in time to intercept any call from the school about her absence. The storm was too dangerous to risk venturing out in, anyway. Heavy droplets of rain pattered off the roof of the barn like the frantic beating of a drum.
Winter’s coming,she thought wistfully.I wonder when it will start to snow?
Would the barn finally be locked then? The prospect sent a pang through her chest. Winter was the time of predators, and there were stories of wild animals circling the outskirts of New Walsh. Primarily wolves, and the occasional bear. Other farmers in the area reported missing or injured animals every now again, and the morbid stories dominated the news.
But she had never heard of anything happening around the old Baker property. Looking back, she had been drawn to this place, despite plenty of other farms in the area—always creeping back to watch the animals graze, until she felt bold enough to view them up close.
Stupidly, she asked her father about the strange property so close to his—a question which earned her bruises that lasted for weeks after.
But it had been okay,a part of her reasoned with a cold sense of detachment; school hadn’t started yet, so there had been no one to hide the injuries from. It was funny how her life had switched course. Fromwantingto be hidden tohavingto hide.
Even now. She didn’t know how long she sat, listening to the drone of the rain play against the old wood. It could have been hours before her body felt too heavy—when the shelter of the barn and the soft murmurs of the animals lulled her into a drowsy state.
Her eyelids became heavy, drooping despite her best attempts to stay alert. It had been days since she’d slept through the night, and exhaustion tempted her to do the most dangerous thing she could in that moment.
She fell asleep.
5
Dangerous.
She’s…dangerous…dangerous…
“She’s dangerous—” The deep voice startled Loren awake.
Alarmed, she wrenched her eyes open, blinking against a harsh light. A wave of instinctive fear inspired her first coherent thought.
Was it morning already?
Her father would be angry if she didn’t deliver the newspapers on time. Though, if she were lucky, last night’s tally of beer might have left him too hungover to get out of bed. Though, she couldn’t quite remember just how many beers he’d had. Or what she made for dinner. Or…
Ever leaving the old Baker farm.
Oh no!She bolted upright, finding the source of the light—a nearby table lamp. That was the first clue she wasn’t in the barn. She wasn’t home either. Instead of her father’s moldy, second-hand furniture, she rested on a pristine leather couch. Draped over her legs was a woolen blanket too luxuriously thick to belong in the Connor household.
That wasn’t all, she realized amid growing dread. It was dark beyond a nearby window, way past nightfall. Her father would be furious—but his wrath took a back seat to the present danger.
A familiar voice resonated through her body, but it definitely didn’t belong to Fred Connors. “I didn’t sign up for this. If you don’t come up with a solution, I will—no, I don’t give a damn about protocol.Listen to me!”
Loren obeyed, bracing her hands protectively over her face. As she eyed the room fearfully beyond her fingers, she realized the speaker’s anger wasn’t directed at her. He wasn’t even in sight, but in another room close by, where his voice echoed off the walls.
“I agreed to watchConnors,” he continued. “Not his damn daughter! She was supposed to be human. Well, guess what? She attacked another girl today. I practically had to drag her away. No. Thank God she didn’t change, but she had blood all over her damn hands. If she’s human, I’m the Queen of fucking England.”
He paused, and Loren swore she heard a faint mumble as if someone was shouting at him, though from far away. A phone, maybe?
“You know damn well what I mean,” Officer McGoven replied, just as heatedly. “Don’t put this on me. She’s just a kid. Hell, she probably doesn’t even know what she is, but I don’t want to be responsible for her. That isn’t my place. She needs guidance. She needs... Are you even listening to me?”
He paused again, and fragments of his tirade ran ceaselessly through Loren’s brain.Responsible. For her.
Could he be referring to Naomi? Though, it didn’t matter. She had more important things to worry about, and she shifted her weight, freeing herself from the blanket. Heart pounding, she searched for her backpack next. How in the hell had she slept for so long?
