Adopted by the Owl Page 3

  Dad made a gulping sound, thrashing more violently now. Emily could see that he was on the edge of a full-blown seizure. She knew she should withdraw and sooth him; however, he was faintly lucid now, and who knew when next she could get him to be lucid again. This was probably going to be her only chance to get answers. She wasn’t going to throw it away.

  Emily, don’t, The Owl warned sternly. He’s going to seize, and if he does, he could die.

  “You don’t know that,” Emily replied to The Owl out loud, absentmindedly. Her mind was already made up. “Perhaps the day she died?” she went on. “Mom got this message, didn’t she?”

  Dad continued thrashing. Gulping. Even grunting like he was being hurt.

  Stop this, Emily, you’re hurting him! Can’t you see?

  Emily was done listening to The Owl at that moment. She grabbed her father by the arms in a fit of anger and shook him so his teeth rattled loudly.

  Emily!

  “Did Mom get this same message?” Emily screamed in her dad’s face.

  “Yes!” Dad screamed back.

  Emily rocked backward, tripping over a stray shoe and falling on her butt. She was so terrified she wasn’t even sure she was breathing.

  Dad had stopped seizing. His eyes had lost their sentient quality. They had become vacant once again. His breathing had stilled. He was back to his imbecilic state.

  Emily sat there, crumpled in a heap on the hardwood floor, staring at her father in horror. Shaking uncontrollably, she hugged her knees into her chest. For the first time since she was born, she was terrified for her life.

  5

  Well, at least he didn’t die, The Owl’s words broke the fugue of terror clouding Emily’s mind.

  Emily realized she was still shaking terribly. She’d pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her shins even tighter. What were the odds that Mom had gotten the same message? What did that mean for her life? Was she safe?

  Emily looked around in the bedroom. Dad’s bedroom was a small one. It used to be the guest room up until Mom died, and the doctors advised they move him into a smaller room so he was less likely to hurt himself.

  The bed took up most of the space, with a small walkway to the wardrobe, bathroom, desk, and doorway. The window blinds were open, but the curtain was drawn in place. Aside from Dad’s shoes that lay scattered on the ground, and the bed being roughed up, everything was neat and kept in order.

  The house was dead silent. Emily listened intently, because at the moment, she was so self-conscious that she believed whoever had sent her the message had to be watching her. How else would they know when she got to her bed? And now that she knew they were probably the same people who sent Mom the same message, she was scared for her life.

  Okay, relax, Emily. The Owl’s voice was calm yet maddening. It was as though she didn’t realize the predicament Emily was now in—they were both in! They’d been found out. It was only a matter of time before vigilantes came crashing through her front door. It was only a matter of time before they disemboweled her and scattered her entrails throughout the town center.

  All aspects of her perfect life would come crashing down. Her friends would disown her. Jamie would leave her. They would brand her the school freak. The town would be just as harsh. They’d think she was some evil creature—some freak of nature.

  They wouldn’t care that she hated herself, too. They wouldn’t care that she’d rather have nothing to do with her powers. They’d just classify her as a supernatural. They wouldn’t even care that she was a teenager. They’d kill her without a second thought.

  It terrified her. Her life was in danger, and she was losing her mind. What would she do? Where could she go? Who could she run to?

  Enough! The Owl boomed in her mind. All your anxiety is making me nervous.

  “Don’t I have a good reason?” Emily prattled. “They know who I am!”

  First of all, if they knew, you wouldn’t be alive, The Owl reasoned. You have to see that. If the vigilantes knew you were a shifter, they’d have already come for you.

  “Are you saying it’s not the vigilantes?” Emily asked with a new twist in her emotions from fear to curiosity.

  What I’m saying is that there’s no use panicking when you really know little about the text message other than what it says, The Owl replied. Because that’s what they want you to do. To panic. We have to play their game. We have to make them show themselves.

  “We?”

  The Owl took her time responding to that one. She finally said, Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am a part of you. If you go, I go. So I have a vested interest in this.

  “We have a party at the house tonight.” Emily clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “I can narrow down my top suspects.”

  Why wait till then? You are going to school today, right?

  “Right.”

  Then let’s start there. Go to school. Find out the truth. The sooner we rule out your school friends, the quicker we can figure out what’s happening.

  “You’re right,” Emily admitted, suddenly realizing how ridiculous her fear had been.

  Who knows? This might be an elaborate prank by one of your friends, The Owl went on. It’s happened before.

  “Yeah,” Emily muttered. “Maybe it’s Joanna pranking me again. She seems to derive joy from it. Or maybe it’s one of the football players who didn’t get invited to the party. It is hush-hush, after all . . .”

  Yeah, that could be it! The Owl said with finality in her tone, like they’d hit the answer. I’m putting my money on that one.

  Emily smiled at her mental image of The Owl wearing a trench coat and a hat and smoking in a dark corner of a bar where bets were being made. Even though she had never actually seen The Owl—from the outside, anyway—Emily still liked to imagine her in amusing scenarios like that. “I suppose I better get going, right?” Emily let out a little chuckle, getting to her feet.

  You think? The Owl retorted.

  God, you can be obnoxious, Emily thought as she rolled her eyes.

  I heard that, The Owl quipped right back. And so can you!

  Emily froze. Oh, yeah, The Owl could read her thoughts . . .

  After assisting her father to the bathroom, Emily helped him into fresh clothes and back into his wheelchair. Still slightly paranoid, she did another check of the rooms in the house to make sure no one was hiding out anywhere in the house.

  Once she was satisfied, she wheeled her father into the living room. That’s where she always left him when she went to school. Usually, she came back to meet him there, staring at nothing. Sometimes, she met him on the front porch, staring at the sky.

  She always left the front door unlocked so he had easy access to the outside.

  When she was ready to go, she stepped in front of him and bent to her haunches. “Dad, I’m sorry for what happened earlier. I was just . . . I freaked out. I just needed to know the truth.”

  Dad stared out at nothing, totally unresponsive. Again.

  “Dad?” Emily tried again. “Do you forgive me?”

  He didn’t reply.

  Emily sighed. “I’m off to school, Dad. See you this afternoon.”

  She left him there and headed to the door. Then, as she touched the knob, he spoke.

  “Anastacia,” Dad muttered.

  Emily turned to look at him . . . just in time to see the sentience vanish from his eyes as they returned to their vacant expression. Emily knew it was no use talking to him now, but she tried. “Anastacia? You want to go see Mom’s sister?”

  No reply.

  “Does it have something to do with the message?”

  Nothing.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Emily groaned and stepped out of the house.

  Emily loaded her backpack into her little black Volkswagen Jetta and drove to school. She was already a few minutes behind, so she had to make up for it by driving like a bat out of hell. Obviously. Thankfully, there weren’t any cops on her route at the time, so she got away with it.

  She drove into the parking lot just as the bell rang for first period. She ran out of the car, carrying her black, designer leather bag and ran to join the stream of students going into the building of Keaton Wright Senior High.

  Almost everyone wanted to talk to her. Lots of smiling and waving. She was polite enough to smile and wave back, but she didn’t allow herself to be cornered by anyone, especially the guys. There seemed to be no small amount of rivalry among the guys about who got Emily’s attention.

  They saw her as a trophy they could win by being more charming, impressive, and everything in between. At first, it felt great to be the center of the conversation in the boys’ locker room. Until she realized they didn’t really respect her for who she was. That was when it got downright exhausting. They saw her as an object. Nothing else. Not a person.

  Being the calm and understanding person she was—or thought she was—she could only correct this issue by steering clear of any guy she encountered. By the time she and Jamie were an item, the other guys at school were already in the habit of chasing after her, catcalling her, and repeatedly commenting on her looks. She asked Jamie about it, and he told her he loved her because she was smart and beautiful and strong. He wasn’t aware of the ‘contest’ to win her heart. If he’d known, he’d have ended it, seeing how she was already his.

  Emily couldn’t have been prouder to be his in that moment. What a wonderful boyfriend, right?

  Their Algebra teacher, Mr. Alonzo, was already in front of the class when they streamed in. The noise level was high, as was the energy. Mr. Alonzo waited patiently as the students got into their seats and pulled out their books.

  Emily’s seat was in the center of the classroom. To her right and left were girls from her cheerleading squad. Behind her was her bestie—Joanna Russo. Emily turned to smile at her. Joanna smiled back. Their characteristic smiles entailed that the two friends knew they would catch up during break.

  Jamie King was somewhere in the back, making a hullabaloo with his posse of jocks. He seemed so absorbed with his teammates that he didn’t see her looking at him. Emily suspected he would be acting differently if he was the message-sending culprit.

  Let’s not jump into conclusions yet, The Owl intervened. He might just be a good actor.

  Emily jumped at The Owl’s voice in her head. She was still getting used to hearing The Owl talk in her mind, especially where there were lots of people.

  She looked around, wondering if someone had heard the voice. No one was looking at her, except Michael. And he had a nasty look on his face.

  Well, crap.

  6

  Emily frowned at the boy—Michael.

  He frowned back and turned to face the teacher.

  “Gee, what was that about?” Joanna muttered from behind her.

  Emily shrugged. “Dude creeps me out sometimes.”

  “I hear he’s been asking questions about you lately, though,” Joanna said. Joanna was the school’s rumor mill, and she wasn’t even on the cheerleading team. (The cheerleaders were notorious for being a gossipy bunch.) It wasn’t because she didn’t have the skill; it was because she thought herself above cheering on a bunch of stupid boys.

  Joanna was a very self-aware, self-absorbed, African-American kid with crazy-rich parents. She could afford to do whatever the heck she wanted. Most often, she did, and nobody had the guts to stand up to her.

  Emily craned her neck to take in her friend. Joanna was wearing a simple, skimpy, maroon gown that, in Emily’s opinion, revealed too much of her thighs. Her legs were crossed under her desk, and a light smile danced across the girl’s deep red lips. Joanna’s necklace, a small dolphin, hung around her neck, light glinting off of it.

  “What?” Emily blurted. This was the first time she was hearing that Michael had been asking questions about her. She thought, This has got to be it! It had to. Why else would Michael be asking questions about her behind her back if it was not to expose her secret?

  Michael had probably seen the signs and was zoning in on her. Sadly, it might be a crazy rite-of-passage thing for him—joining the town’s vigilante group and becoming a man and whatnot. Maybe they wanted him to catch a supernatural on his own. Maybe that was what this was all about.

  “You didn’t know?” Joanna muttered, genuinely surprised.

  Emily shook her head. She sneaked a glance at Michael. He wasn’t looking in her direction; however, Emily could tell he was thinking hard about something nasty.

  “No,” Emily replied. “What kind of questions?”

  Joanna shrugged. “The usual, of course. Your phone number. Where you live. The places you frequent.”

  Um, the usual!? What the hell was usual about that? Emily swallowed hard. “Let me guess; you told him?”

  A frown exploded on Joanna’s face. “Gosh, no!” She leaned back on her chair. “Although I can’t speak for your cozy squadmates.”

  Joanna must have seen the look of horror on Emily’s face because her expression softened. “Hey, it’s probably nothing creepy or anything like that. Maybe he’s just liking his chances in this silly who-gets-Emily thing the footballers are always doing.”

  Emily was about to refute that explanation when she realized that Joanna didn’t know about the text message she’d received or its implications. If she knew, she would have understood this piece of information she’d given Emily about Michael could mean only one thing.

  Not really, The Owl interrupted again. It could, but it could mean something else.

  Cryptic much? “What else could it mean?” Emily subvocalized to her other half.

  “Say what?” said the young lady to her right.

  Crap. She said that out loud. Emily smiled at the girl—“Nothing!”—and returned her focus to Mr. Alonzo.

  You asked what else it could mean? The Owl went on.

  Emily nodded.

  Well, it could mean he’s just a weirdo.

  Emily chuckled.

  “Welcome back, everyone,” Mr. Alonzo finally greeted the class. As soon as he spoke, silence descended on the class. “Today, we’re going to be solving simultaneous polynomials,” Mr. Alonzo went on. And then he proceeded to give them a boring forty-five-minute lecture on polynomials. It was a double-period class, so he continued right on after the bell rang.

  Mr. Alonzo’s class was rarely interactive. Hence, Emily had a lot of time to think. All she thought about was Michael and what he could possibly want from her. She’d concluded he had to be the one. He was close enough to her. They were in the same classes. Plus, he’d been trained to spot supernaturals, including those who didn’t want to be spotted.

  It made perfect sense. Now, add the fact that he’d been asking around about her. Maybe he somehow got her phone number and home address. Maybe he staked out her house. Heck, maybe he even followed her into the city and watched her turn into The Owl.

  Maybe he even has photos! Emily realized with a chilling feeling sliding down her spine. Maybe he took photos with an expensive, powerful camera like cops did in detective movies. Maybe he followed her back to her house and sent her the message to taunt her. It certainly fit with his personality.

  I have an idea, offered The Owl. Why don’t you just plain accost him and ask him. No use torturing yourself over assumptions.

  “They’re not assumptions,” Emily muttered to herself. She got weird looks from some of the students around. She gladly ignored them.

  If they’re not assumptions, show me the proof you have other than what Joanna said about Michael.

  Emily thought long and hard about it. But try as she might, she couldn’t come up with any concrete proof that Michael knew what she was. The evidence was circumstantial at best. And if he already knew, why taunt her? Why not call in the cavalry and get her over and done with?

  Good! The Owl sounded impressed. Now you’re thinking.

  “Thanks to you,” Emily muttered out loud.

  Mr. Alonzo stopped and glanced at her. Everyone in the class turned her way as well. Emily froze. She could feel The Owl slinking back into the darker areas of her mind. Traitor.

  “Ms. Davies, I really don’t see the point in thanking me for showing you the way to solve a three-pronged, simultaneous polynomial equation,” Mr. Alonzo pointed out. “Unless, of course, your thanks were not directed to me.” He paused. “In which case, it would beg the question, who are you talking to?”

  “Yeah, Ms. Davies, who are you talking to?” Michael echoed from his chair. He wore a venomous look on his face.

  Emily frowned.

  “Thank you, Mr. Winter, but I can handle Ms. Davies all by myself,” Mr. Alonzo said. He glanced at Emily, arching an eyebrow. “Well?”

  You could always tell him the truth, The Owl echoed in her mind. She had to fist her hands to keep herself from shouting ‘No!’

  “Nothing much, Mr. Alonzo.” Emily drew out her sweetest voice. “I guess I just vocalized a thought.”

  Mr. Alonzo raised an eyebrow. “Kindly desist from doing that in my class, okay? I will not tolerate anyone speaking out of turn, not even you.”

  Emily felt the harsh words slice into her like a cut in her skin. She nodded once, her gaze sliding over to Michael. He had this enormous frown on his face, which was red as a cherry. He looked like he was going to explode if he didn’t do something violent to her.

  ‘What’s with you?’ she mouthed to him, but he hissed aloud and looked away from her.

  Emily was only intrigued all the more. She thought back to her dealings in the past week. Had she, in some way, done something to warrant this kind of treatment from Michael? Had she somehow insulted him? Maybe she’d spoken out of turn.

  If she’d done something bad to him, she couldn’t remember. She had to talk to him.

  Like I said, earlier, said The Owl, accost him. Don’t let him know you’re coming. That’s the best way you can get him to talk. If he knows you’re coming to him, he’ll have the time to think up a lie.