RYAN. EARLIER; TOO DAMN EARLY, IN FACT.

Ryan’s phone bonged, the volume controlled electronic echo of a massive gong being struck. He opened one bleary feeling eye and gave it a look. There was not a second bong.

After a moment, Ryan groaned and rolled over, reaching out and grabbed the phone, glaring at the screen through sleep encrusted eyes. On said screen was a text from one Chris Gramyre. Let’s go wait at Megan’s house to meet her and tell her about last night. She’ll need to know. It was to the three of them.

Ryan slunk out of bed and pulled on some pants he grabbed off the floor. He wouldn’t be wearing them to school, but they were good enough for now. As he pulled on a ratty tee shirt, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it: I don’t know where her house is, I’ll come to your place.

Chris seemed to be taking everything quite in stride. Or possibly he was just crushing hard enough on Megan that the rest of the drama and weirdness was worth it to him. Ryan wasn’t a hundo percent sure, yet, but betting on the latter.

The old door creaked as he left the room. Angie was sitting up on the couch, her eyes closed, her short, asymmetrical hair tousled, its scarlet greyscale in the dark. Her old phone was laying next to her on the couch without the screen locked, open to the message app and providing the only light in the room. “Light?” Ryan asked.

“Mmgph,” Angie said, which Ryan interpreted as a no, so he padfooted through the room toward the stairs. “I’ma use your shower. Go make coffee,” she mumbled when he was about halfway there.

“Hai, Matchstick,” Ryan replied. Angie giggled and smiled sleepily at him as she swayed up to her feet, adorable in a long t-shirt.

Ryan creaked open the even creakier door to the stairwell, and creaked his way up the stairs. He marched on over to Evan’s bedroom door, then knocked, politely. After a few moments, he knocked less so.

“What,” came Evan’s sleep-addled reply.

“Chris is coming over soon, so that we can go wait at Megan’s house for her to come out to go to school,” Ryan called through the door.

Evan and Cali’s mother poked her head out of the kitchen, and gave Ryan a cryptic look. Her faded brown hair tried to escape from the bun she had pulled it back into, the stray hair hanging down around and in her face. Both Cadell children had her stormcloud gray eyes.

Evan was going to have to decide what, if anything to tell his mother. Ryan doubted she was unaware that Evan had been out the night before and gotten injured. Regardless, Ryan sure didn’t care to be the one to share anything with her first. “Big day yesterday, Mst. C,” Ryan said, aiming for cheerily. “I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it.”

From inside his room, Evan repeated, slightly less witlessly, “What.”

“Megan,” Mst. Cadell said, closing her gray eyes and shaking her head. “That explains it.” She withdrew into the kitchen. She managed to start some breakfast for them all most days, after her shift. That was about it since her husband had been killed. She hadn’t taken Virginia well, and the Captain on top of that. Well. She spent most of her free time in her chambers upstairs these days.

“Look at your dumb phone, December,” Ryan called through the door, and then, in the direction of the kitchen, “Angie’s here.”

“‘Course she is,” came Mst. Cadell’s voice, faint, from the kitchen. “The door at the bottom of the stairs was closed.” That was a fair point. Ryan wasn’t in the habit of closing that door when he was alone down there, and he just closed his actual bedroom door at night.

There were a couple dozen rooms in this place, it was silly they didn’t have a guest room with a bed. He was going to have to rectify that soon for Angie’s sake.

“Coffee?” Ryan called.

“Haven’t made any,” Mst. Cadell responded. “Stop yelling at me from the hall.”

Ryan smirked a little and walked to the Grove’s absolutely massive kitchen, compared to everything else in the house—it took up the bulk of the ground floor.[1] “I’ll get it going,” he said, trying to sound at least faintly apologetic. He wasn’t good at it.

[1] The kitchen had been intended to feed twenty plus people every day, so it was by far the largest room in the house, with a considerable amount of counter space and two godsdamned ovens. They of course just ate cold cuts and the like all summer, as there was no A/C to make using those ovens bearable.

Mst. Cadell went “Mmm” in response, engaged in pulling eggs out of their carton and cracking them into a bowl.

Ryan stretched, reaching up to the edge of the top of the refrigerator and easing off the canister of locally roasted coffee from Has Beans Roasters, which Ryan had initially started patronizing because he enjoyed the name. Their coffee seemed good enough to him. He was curious to find out what sort of coffee the Gramyres drank—he now had unprecedented access to information about how (at least a few) rich people lived their lives, and he intended to make the most of it.

He dumped some beans into the top of a burr grinder, which didn’t have a handle on the lid he pushed down over the opening, just a square metal nub that looked like what a handle would fit onto. Then he pulled a small black cylinder made out of a short length of pipe out of a drawer, and fitted an opening on one side of it down over the nub, keeping a tight hold on both the burr grinder and the pipe. As soon as the pipe was fully attached, the whine of a motor emerged from it, along with the racket of coffee beans bouncing around.

After a little of that, he had grounds. He loaded them and some water into the coffee maker, which was next on his hit list, at least as far as upgrading the kitchen went—he’d spent too much of the summer goofing around with Angie and Evan, should have had it done already. Once the coffee was brewing, he crisply saluted Mst. C, who ignored him, and then strolled back into the hallway just as Evan blundered out of his room, eyes nearly shut, his bathrobe clutched around him, the belt missing.

“Morning!” Ryan said, putting a cheery spin on it. He needed far less sleep than most people, typically futzing around long after everyone else was asleep.

“Mmblbp,” Evan replied. Now that Ryan was closer, he realized Evan’s eyes were fully shut, not merely nearly, right before Evan shoulder checked the bathroom doorframe, knocking himself off balance enough so that he spun around and fell down. Ryan belly laughed.

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“Laugh it up,” Evan mumbled, and kicked the door shut.

The night before had been late for Evan.

Ryan called through the door. “Did you happen to thank Chris for saving your ass last night? Or Angie, for that matter?”

Silence. Then, a faint, sullen, “No.”

“Might give it a try,” Ryan replied, and wandered back downstairs, where he messed around on his laptop for a few minutes until Angie was out of the shower, then showered himself.

ANGIE. HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE MORNING.

Angie sat at the kitchen island bar on a bar stool, wearing a witchy black and forest green skirt and a loose black cotton blouse thing that kept slipping off one of her narrow shoulders, squinting off into nothing as she sipped coffee. She couldn’t get her eyes open, and the light seemed too bright, but in fits and starts, her thoughts started to coalesce into something resembling order. Curse Evan and his stupid stunt.

Evan’s mother had plodded out a few minutes before, having finished getting ready a plate of food for herself and some eggs whipped for scrambling and some potatoes started cooking, mumbling about not being in the mood to deal with another Light Bearer that morning, and not even on her shift. She’d looked tired. But then, she always did.

Someone came into the kitchen, clattered around a minute, poured some coffee, and pulled up a stool next to her. She opened her left eye just a bit more and squinted in that direction. A shamefaced Evan Cadell sat there, his hands clasped between his knees, his long legs already twined through the legs of the stool, his coffee steaming on the counter in front of him. He wore one of his normal two-tone t-shirt and jeans combos. The t-shirt was gray and blue, the jeans black.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft, embarrassed. “Thanks for saving my life last night.”

“Of course,” Angie said, finally forcing her eyes to open for real and giving him a quirked smile. “I like you alive.”

“Me too,” Evan said, still quiet.

“I’m sorry I almost killed you.”

“No worries.”

After a long moment of silence, Evan said, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Angie asked, meaning why’d he do that dumb thing, knowing he’d know what she meant.

“I don’t really know if I can explain it coherently,” Evan said, shaking his head, still shamefaced. “I was upset.”

“Beth?” Angie asked as a follow up. Then added, “Ryan told.”

“About my sixth grade crush?” Evan asked, with a hint of a smile, a touch of amusement replacing some of the embarrassment in his tone. “Not a big deal.” His smile faded, and he continued, “No. It was Megan. And Chris. Just… his whole deal.”

“Hmm,” Angie replied. She got it. Well enough, anyway. Evan wasn’t always a real eloquent guy, but Angie knew him pretty fucking well at this point. At the heart of it was his frustration at needing a hunting partner, she knew, even if he never expressed it coherently because he knew it was irrational to get upset about it. There was nothing at all to be done about it, no matter how good he got at shooting. “Well, he came home with you from the hospital. What was that like? You seemed like you were in a pretty good mood when you got home.”

“I was delirious,” Evan said, looking tired and bemused. “I was so out of it, I didn’t notice when we made the entire last trolley transfer.” He paused for a second. “I remember what we talked about well enough, I think. Or the gist of it at least. Maybe. Or it’s all a delusion.”

“Sure,” Angie said. “I suppose you’ll see, huh? What’d you talk about, if you don’t mind me asking? Since our birthday... thing has gotten all magical, and we’re probably stuck with him, it might help to know. Also, you still liable to go wandering by yourself after dark?”

“Noooo…” Evan said, shaking his head. “No, I’ll be good. Chris and I are cool now, I think. Um. We talked about a bunch of stuff. I told him about us. Our birthdays, how we became friends, and the Exile. And he talked about meeting Megan, and we talked about hunting.” He paused, looking like he was just realizing what he was saying. “He was impressed by my shooting. He wants to hunt together!”

“Of course he was,” Angie replied, rolling her eyes at him. “Like there was any doubt.”

Evan gathered himself for a moment, then said, “We talked about… the thing. How he got it.”

“Careful,” Ryan said behind them. They both glanced over their shoulders in time to see him wander into the room, his white-blond hair damp from the shower and not yet teased into shape, wearing a blue and white t-shirt and his light blue cargo scrub pants.

“Yeah,” Evan answered. “Scrubs? On the second day of school?”

Giving Evan a look as he clambered up onto the stool on Evan’s other side, Ryan said, “Yes, scrubs. I don’t need you judging my choices. That’s what Katies and Laurens are for.” Angie giggled at that.

After thirty seconds or so of silence, Angie said, “Okay. That’s all you guys talked about?”

“No,” Evan said, his voice even softer than it’d been. “He pushed me on why I was out there. I couldn’t figure out how to explain, so instead I told him about Dad. And I told him about Ginny while I was talking about the Exile.”

That shocked Angie into sitting up straight and really looking at Evan. Ryan looked just as surprised. Evan stared at his coffee, his expression forlorn. Evan almost never talked about his dead family members. He’d obliquely mentioned Virginia while talking to Megan the morning before, and even that had surprised both Angie and Ryan.

“You okay?” Ryan asked, concern in his voice, one of the rare times his tone was not imbued with at least a touch of wryness. He put a hand on Evan’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Evan said, with a shrug and a hint of a smile. “He didn’t ask about why I went out alone again, at any rate. He seemed to understand. He was… cool. A nice guy.” Evan said this like he still couldn’t quite believe it. “We can probably hang. I mean, he went out on a limb for me and gave me a healing potion, and half the bounty went to my hospital bills.

“Also,” Evan continued, the hint of a smile gaining a hint of amusement, “I can confirm that he has a major crush on Megan. He was straightforward about it, and assumed I was out alone because I had a crush on her and was trying to one-up him. Or something.”

“Ha!” Angie laughed. “As if. Like you’d ever be into Megan in that way. That would be weird.”

“Yes!” Evan said with feeling. “I disabused him of the notion that I like Megan pretty quick, I think, so I’m not sure exactly what he thought I thought I was doing. But I don’t blame him, as beautiful as she is now.” He shook his head, sounding bemused. “Which I didn’t realize until he pointed it out. But thinking back and picturing her, it was obvious. What the hell?!”

“Interrobang!” Ryan tagged. “I didn’t really realize it until we’d hung out with her for like an hour after school already, at the Food Court. She smiled, that way that she used to, that grin just taking up half her face, and looked positively radiant. It really made me stop and take notice.”

Angie, dumbstruck, stared at them both, feeling like a switch had just been flipped in her brain. “Sacred shit you guys, she’s so gorgeous now!” she said, feeling oblivious even as she said it. “How did I not realize this?”

“You’re more attracted to guys?” Ryan said in his I-have-helpful-suggestions voice. “You were talking about how great she was looking yesterday. You didn’t even realize how great she was actually looking?”

“I mean, I was mostly admiring her curves at the time, and her hair,” Angie said, puzzling at her memories. How the fuck…? “I don’t know, I guess I got bits of it, but somehow she was... Megan to me. Same with that smile. That was Megan’s happy grin to me, but you’re right. Radiant is absolutely the right word.”

“That’s exactly what it was like for me, too,” Evan said. “She just seemed like Megan. Why didn’t we notice?”

Angie didn’t know. It was a weird feeling, not like anything she’d quite experienced before. Thinking back in the context of Evan and Ryan pointing it out, Megan’s beauty couldn’t be more obvious. How Angie had missed that, not realized it, she didn’t understand. Angie wasn’t unhappy with her own looks at all, but being around a stranger as attractive as Megan would probably have made her self-conscious and nervous. Surely it wasn’t just because she was… familiar? With Megan?

Angie wondered, for a moment, whether her own perceptions were trustworthy, and if not... Why not?