25. Avery

Magic wasn’t real. Avery knew this; science proved it repeatedly, but through some art of luck or magic, the injuries Troy had caused only required stitches.

A lot of stitches, there was no denying that, but only stitches.

She stared at her leg, stretched before her in the bed, cleaned and wrapped in bandages, then glanced at the faun lying in a similar position beside her.

Cricket’s head rested on the pillows, her eyes closed, and long fingers interlocked over her stomach. A band of raw skin and worn down wrapped around the front of her throat. Avery blinked and looked away, unable to bear looking at the lingering proof of what they had gone through.

What they had survived.

Nurse Almaden had been quick, cleaning the wounds and staunching the blood flow enough to work whatever magic it was nurses were taught in medical school. Then she’d handed Avery a paper cup full of pink liquid and Cricket a handful of what looked like horse tranquilizers.

“To give you some time,” the hawkish inhuman had whispered, squeezing Avery’s arm and nodding at the cup. “The cops will be here soon. Sanoya and Mac will make a report, but I thought you’d like a few moments to …” She glanced at Cricket, who had her palm pressed against her mouth. She grimaced as she swallowed, then stared bleakly at Avery and the nurse.

“What?”

“I brought water for you.” Nurse Almaden gestured at the side table. Cricket shrugged and nestled against the pillows, lacing her long fingers together as she closed her eyes.

She hadn’t moved since.

After a few minutes, her breathing deepened, and the tightness in her features eased as the tranquilizers worked.

The pink concoction had eased Avery’s pain, letting her drift along, vaguely aware of flashing lights outside the window. Of voices in the main cabin, doors closing, stairs creaking, but she couldn’t grasp the passage of time. Couldn’t discern words from the hushed tones. So she drifted, glancing at Cricket every so often to keep rooted to the earth. To this room. She didn’t know how much time she had left at Elkwater. The summer, if she was lucky, but Avery had never been lucky. She had been driven and determined, and that behavior had led to a werewolf attack and identity theft.

But it had also led to Elkwater and Cricket sleeping beside her in this room, and she decided that was where she wanted to be.

The door creaked open, and Mac poked her head in, glancing at Cricket’s slumbering form and then Avery.

“Come on in.” She waved the director closer with a heavy limb.

Mac stepped inside, easing the door closed, and whispered, “I don’t want to wake her.”

“She’s so zonked; I doubt an earthquake and a stampede of elepanths could wake her.”

“Elepanths?”

“‘Kay, so I might be zonked too,” Avery said.

Mac smiled, though it was tight around her mouth and did little to relieve the weariness dragging at her eyes. She walked quietly across the room, skirting the creaky floorboard and perching on the bedside table. “How are you?”

“Tired,” she admitted. Mac nodded, sweeping a hand through her hair and staring into the empty air. “Sore. Mad.” Avery looked at her hand, scrubbed pink and clean. Curling her fingers to glare at the broken nails. A band tightened around her rib cage, squeezing out everything she’d been keeping safely inside like a Flintstones Push-Pop. Her eyes stung, and she clenched them tight, willing the tears not to fall when she couldn’t stop the words. “I’m so … so mad.”

Her shoulders shook. Once, twice, and the damn broke.

“I don’t know what I ever did to him,” she cried, her cheeks hot and wet with rage. “I’m a straight-A student, I got a scholarship to Messiah for music, I played varsity softball. Why would he do this?”

Mac was seated on the bed in an instant, wrapping her arms around Avery and letting her cry. All the anger and rage, the terror that she had felt in that glade, that she still felt with every tiny, unexpected sound, but mostly the anger at her father, Nathan Payne. She’d heard what Troy said in the glade, heard him tell Cricket that defrauding her, forging her signature, setting Avery up, and then hunting her had been her father’s plan.

The anger she had felt at the realization had fueled her swing, lending her more strength than she’d ever felt with a softball bat in hand.

How? How could a father do that to his daughter? His own flesh and blood?

She held onto Mac, wailing into the camp director’s shirtsleeve. Shaking and trembling against her until the worst of it was out. Her throat ached, snot ran from her nose, and through it all, Mac held her, rocking Avery gently while whispering, “Shh, shh.”

When the worst of it subsided, she leaned away. Mac let her go easily, waiting for Avery to speak with a gentle, open expression.

She sniffed, rubbed the back of her wrist under her nose, and said to the ceiling, “I don’t understand how someone can hate their own daughter so much.”

“It’s not you, Avery.” Mac patted the comforter between them, leaving her hand accessible should Avery need someone to hold onto. “It’s what you—what we represent.”

“Sin,” she spat, her eyes fixed on the bed.

“No. Strength.” Mac slapped the comforter. “Strength and kindness. Openmindedness. Love. People like your dad are afraid because the world is changing. The balance of power is shifting out of their hands, and they are too small to possess the ability to adapt and evolve. People like us?” She ducked low to meet Avery’s eyes. “We represent the future. The way the world could be, the way it should be, and that is something to be proud of.”

Avery sniffled, nodding weakly. Mac’s words, though, resonated within her, spiraling deep into a vital place where they would plant as a seed and grow roots, forming the new foundation of Avery’s world. But at this moment? They were too large to comprehend. Too heavy of a burden to bear.

Cricket shifted in the bed, snorting in her sleep. Both Avery and Mac watched her for a moment, and then the director took Avery’s hand and squeezed.

“I’m not saying you need to shave your head, pierce your nipples, and carry a sign that says Tacos 24/7. I mean, if you want to, sure. Fine. I’ve got clippers in my bathroom, but you’re on your own for the piercings.” Avery couldn’t help but chuckle, and Mac’s mouth curled to the side, driving a tiny dimple into her cheek. “What I’m saying is, you’ve got family around you.”

“Thanks, Direc—”

“Oh for… can you just call me Mac?” She threw her hands up, and her exasperation pulled a full laugh out of Avery.

Cricket jolted awake, sitting upright, hands pressed into the mattress. She jerked her head to the left, the right, then flopped against the pillows, dropping an arm across her face. “Gods, what’s happened now?”

Avery curled her fingers under Cricket’s. “Just Mac telling me I’ve got family that won’t, you know, try to forge my signature for financial and political gain and then feed me to a werewolf.”

“Oh, right.” One round, coppery eye peered at Avery. “Obviously.”

“Well, that,” Mac said, “and also, downstairs.”

Avery twisted around, wincing as the move jostled her leg. “What?”

“They just got in. Drove straight from Harrisburg.” Mac glanced at the door and dropped her voice to whisper conspiratorially, “Your mom refused to post bail.”

Avery gaped at her, the implication circling in her head until even the words didn’t make sense. She dragged her gaze to the door, clutching the comforter in one hand and grasping Cricket’s fingers with the other. “My mom?”

“And siblings,” Mac confirmed. “There are so many redheads down there, it’s like a wildfire.” She shook her head, gaze going distant. “Your dad’s an asshole, but he must be great in the sack because that is a LOT of kids.”

“A whole football team,” Avery murmured, easing her hand away from Cricket’s and gripping the bedpost to stand. Mac hopped up, fetching a crutch from against the wall and helping Avery gain her balance.

“You don’t have to do this right now.”

“I know.” She sent her boss a tight smile, then glanced at the bed. Cricket had managed to right herself, but her eyes were glassy, her limbs loose. Avery’s chest warmed at the sight. Even drugged with goodness knew what tranquilizers and injured—again —Cricket wanted to stand beside her; wanted to be there for her.

“Stay,” Avery whispered. “Please, get some rest.”

“Are you sure?” Cricket asked, her head already dropping.

Avery nodded and jerked her chin to the empty half of the mattress. “Keep it warm for me. I’ll be right back.” And with a nod to Mac, she hobbled out of the room.

She moved slowly down the stairs, hesitating at the first glimpse of ash blonde hair in a braid. Her mother stood in Mac’s office, one arm wrapped around her front, fingers pressed to her lips. Her eyes were pinned on something out the window, her back straight and proud. Avery’s heart clenched at the collision of worlds. In a few short weeks, Elkwater had become a sort of home, and she hadn’t recognized how precious she held the camp until this moment—when her mother stood in Mac’s office. The representation of the life Avery had been running from, the life she could never escape. The life she would be forced to return to, either now, or at the end of the summer, but forced to return either way.

Pressed and proper. Clean and tidy. Her mother was the culmination of every cultivated image Nathan Payne presented to the world. Everything Avery was not.

She glanced at her borrowed clothes—bike shorts and an OSU hoodie. Her hair hung loose, spilling over her shoulders in a wave of frizzy red. One sock. She could not have looked any further from the Payne ideal, and the thought had her backing up a step, heat crawling up her neck as embarrassment set in.

A floorboard creaked beneath her crutch, and Avery’s mom whirled around. Her poise shattered, tears filled her sky-blue eyes, and in a blink, she was rushing from the office and launching to the base of the stairs, wrapping her arms around Avery.

“My baby girl,” her mom wept into her hair. “Oh, my Avery.”

At those words, at the sound of her name, the image Avery had crafted of her mother, of Nathan Payne’s wife, was swept away in a deluge of tears. She dropped her crutch, wrapping her arms around her mother. They were jostled by a weight colliding into them. And another and another. Arm after arm, body after body, crashing into Avery and her mom and hugging them as best they could.

“They came after midnight,” her mom explained. Avery only caught snippets of her siblings’ voices, but they were the pieces that mattered. “Warrants for his arrest … multiple counties … corroborated witness accounts … forged signatures … trial … jail … no bail.”

Sanoya’s narrow frame drifted down the main trail, the Hidebehind hopping from shadow to shadow behind her. One by one, lights in the cabins winked out, and the warm, flickering glow of campfires illuminated the grounds. Counselors’ voices echoed in the dark, and lithe figures darted from the shadows, running hand-in-paw and hand-in-hand.

The screen door swung closed, clacking against the frame, and Cricket’s uneven hoofbeats tocked against the wood. She dropped a picnic basket on the topmost step and propped her crutch on the porch rail to settle beside Avery.

Avery glanced at the basket and raised her eyebrows.

“Mac’s idea,” Cricket replied. Her ears twitched, and the bare skin on her throat flushed. “Something she and Ramble used to do, I guess.”

“Sit on the stairs?”

“Picnics, smartass.” Cricket opened the basket and pulled out two camping mugs and a bag of peach rings. She blinked at the candy, nostrils flaring. The tawny down on her cheeks deepened in hue where it softened to fuzz. “Okay, so these were definitely Ramble’s idea.”

“How is that going?” Avery tipped her head toward the door, not wanting to pry but needing to check in with the faun. After everything, when her mother and siblings had left for Elkins and the drugs had worn off, Cricket filled her in on the Assessor’s Office and Green Bank, this time with far less freak-out rushing her words. There was anger there, and hurt, and it was impossible to miss that the direction had changed. She’d been resigned when admitting her family had not believed her, but when it came to Ramble …

“They’re embarrassed.” She stretched out her injured leg, rubbing her thigh and staring across the front yard. “Won’t stop apologizing whenever we’re in the same room, which I guess is fair.” Her long fingers toyed with the top of the bandage wrapped around her calf, plucking the pink bow Avery had tied under the influence of Nurse Almaden’s painkillers. “This wouldn’t have happened if they’d just driven me.”

“They did what they thought was right for Mac and the camp,” said Avery. “Just like you were doing what you thought was right for your family. You can’t fault Ramble that.”

“Yeah, that’s my point,” Cricket grumbled. “Everyone should have listened to me from the start.”

Avery chuckled, warmed by the return of Cricket’s crankiness. She took it as a sign that the faun was feeling better. Or, at least, well enough to wean off the tranquilizers. Her stomach rumbled, reminding Avery that she, too, had weaned off the strongest painkillers, and thus her appetite had returned.

She rummaged in the picnic basket, fingers grazing a loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, grapes, and finally peering inside. “Oh snap, there’s a whole feast in here.”

“Told you,” Cricket said. “They feel bad.”

Avery shook her head, smiling, and pulled out a thermos. She gestured for the camping mugs and filled both with a steaming brown liquid. Cricket took her mug happily, clasping it in both hands, while Avery eyed hers before sniffing.

“Hooooo,” she wheezed, eyes watering. “What is this?”

“Apple Jack.” Cricket grinned. “Another Mac and Ramble special.”

“I’m just going to pretend this is medicine.”

“Aw, come on.” Cricket sipped her Apple Jack, choking off a cough. “Goes down smooth like a sweet gum spiny ball.”

“You are a disaster.” Avery set her mug down and grabbed the bag of peach rings, pinching one between her fingers and offering it to Cricket. “And cranky. Here, have a peach ring.”

Light sparkled deep in Cricket’s eyes. She leaned over the picnic basket to take the offered gummy in her teeth, lips closing around Avery’s fingers. A curl of heat shot straight to her belly, unfurling as Cricket’s eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a decadent moan.

“Okay, yeah,” Avery panted. “Starting to understand why they packed what they did in this basket.” She offered another peach ring to Cricket, who took this one with her fingers and popped it into her mouth, chewing loudly.

Music drifted to them on a breeze, a guitar chorus from one of the campfires. A horn joined in, a saxophone, and soon the night was full of song as the stars twinkled overhead.

They sat, shoulder to shoulder, sipping Apple Jack and munching on grapes, bread, and cheese. After a time, Cricket shifted, speaking into the dark, “You gonna go home?”

“No,” said Avery. “Not yet.”

“End of the summer then?” Cricket’s ears twitched and she sat up straighter.

Avery shook her head. “End of next summer.”

Cricket stared at her, face blank. “What do you—”

“My mom is going to lease an apartment in Elkins. It”ll be easier that way, I think. Somewhere to set up as a home base. And she’s coming back tomorrow with my siblings. They all play instruments, so I’m going to show them the camp and borrow the Gator to show my mom the undeveloped land around the perimeter.”

“Okay, so now I’m super lost. Why?”

“For your family.” Cricket stiffened beside her, ears twitching. “We can’t clear the land, something about a sound barrier with Green Bank so close, but mom has some ideas about shelters and running water and power to—”

“What?” Cricket’s ears jolted upright, and she twisted to face Avery, looking so stunned she couldn’t help but laugh.“Wait, hold up, what?”

“My mom’s family owns a construction company in Pittsburgh,” she explained. “They’re looking for a ‘philanthropic endeavor”—she lifted her index finger from the mug, crooking it at the words—“and when she learned what my dad was doing … and then I told her about your family.”

“Aves,” Cricket breathed her name. Goosebumps rose along her arms, and she watched the faun out of the corner of her eye.

“As long as Mac runs the camp, as long as this camp exists, the land can’t be sold or developed. No one can force them out, and they can integrate as far as they’re comfortable. My mom called my grandmother before she left, and she’s going to work on the board, but they’ve never been able to say no to her.” She grinned, her cheeks aching and eyes raw from the tears of shock and joy she had already shed. “And Mac is going to need help, renovating an entire camp, overseeing new construction, it’s a big job. She’ll need her assistant director around to…”

Cricket blinked, and in the low light, Avery realized the soft down beneath her eyes was damp. “You’re not leaving?”

“I’m not leaving,” she confirmed. “At least, not until Carnegie at the end of next summer. I hope.”

Cricket rubbed the heel of her palm under one eye, the other, then turned the full brunt of her wide, watery gaze on Avery. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“So why don’t you?”

Cricket wasted no time, closing the slight distance between them. Her lips pressed against Avery’s as her arms banded around her shoulders. A light, chaste press of her lips that Avery chased, angling as best she could on the stairs to fit her body against Cricket’s. She flicked her tongue along the seam of her lips, and the faun opened to her immediately.

She swept her tongue in Avery’s mouth, kissing her in a slow, drugging way Avery was coming to love, luxuriating in the kiss as if they had all the time in the world.

And with the sound of laughter from the campfires and the stars twinkling overhead, Avery realized—they did.