Nolan pulled to a stop in my driveway and an orange cat shot out from under the steps. It darted across the grass highlighted in the warm glow of the porch lights Dad left on for me.

I watched it climb the fence and drop to the neighbor's yard as Nolan said, "Thanks for getting the girls to go out. Lauren's not mad at me anymore."

"I could tell. Almost told you to get a room." I snickered.

He looked down, feigning embarrassment, but grinned when he said, "Dude, I love her." His smile fell, and he crossed his arms. "And we don't have much time left together."

"What do you mean? You're not breaking up for school, are you?"

"I hope not, but Lauren's talked about it. She's afraid I'll cheat on her and ruin everything between us if we stay together. But how would splitting up help?"

"Are you planning to see other girls?"

"No way. But she says that's because we're always with each other now."

"That sucks, dude." The idea of them separating was odd. They were made for each other.

Owen sighed. "Now I feel bad for the little chicken."

"Are you going to ask Emily to be exclusive?" Nolan asked.

I shook my head. "We're only dating. We haven't been together forever like you and Lauren. Just don't be a dumbass."

Nolan rolled his eyes. "I knew you'd have expert advice."

"That's what I'm here for." I got out of the car with a smirk and waved.

Inside, Dad stood in the bright kitchen, getting ready for the morning. The counters were shiny, and the scent of lemon cleaner and coffee grounds filled the air.

"Hey, son! You're late. Did you have a hot date?" He winked and nudged me with his elbow, being a dork intentionally.

"Hot enough that I had to tune out for most of it," Owen mumbled.

I ignored him to answer Dad. "Yeah, Emily and I doubled with Nolan and Lauren; we got dinner."

"That sounds fun. I'm glad y'all are spending time together before they leave. Are you sure you don't want to go to school with your friends?"

"I'm sure. Are you trying to get rid of me?"

He raised one eyebrow. "No, but I don't want you to regret this later. School might be exciting."

"Nah, as long as you're willing to teach me, I'll take the free education with the guaranteed job."

"I'm looking forward to it! I set enough coffee to brew for both of us, and I got a special snack for your first day." He reached behind the travel cups and picked up a small bag of salted peanuts. "The Coke's in the fridge."

The memory of Grandpa's strong arms around me in a tight hug and the sound of Mom's giggling filled my mind. "No, don't squish him! He's my baby!" she'd say as she tickled my sides until he set me down. By then, my tummy would be sore from laughing and I'd have to dry my eyes. Grandpa would ruffle my hair and lead the way to the kitchen. "Come on, boy. I got us all a treat."

I smiled at the thought, and Dad moved closer to hug me. "They'd be so proud of you."

Comforting warmth spread in my chest as I inhaled Dad's aftershave. "Thanks."

He kissed my temple before stepping back to toss the bag onto the island. "We'll leave at seven to finish the plumbing in a new house, then replace a sink in the afternoon."

"I'll be ready."

Dad patted my shoulder as he walked past me to the stairs.

"He seems like a nice guy," Owen said once Dad was out of sight.

"He is."

"Are peanuts hard to come by now? They weren't important before."

I chuckled. "No. When I was little, my grandpa, Mom's dad, would get Coke and peanuts for us whenever we went to visit him. It was a big deal for me when Mom decided I was old enough to dump the peanuts in the Coke the way her and Grandpa did. Before that, I had to eat them separately because she was worried I'd choke or something."

"That's disgusting. Why would you ruin a perfectly good soda?"

"It tastes good! After Grandpa passed, Mom would get them for us once in a while when he was on her mind, I guess. Then, she was gone too." My throat tightened, and I stopped to clear it. "Anyway, I don't usually buy it myself, but Dad gets it for me sometimes."

I brushed my hair back with a sigh and tried not to dwell on the people I missed. I had enough going on and didn't need to add extra stress.

Owen seemed to sense my mood and changed the subject. "You're learning to be a plumber?"

"Yep. It's decent money and steady work. Plus, I'll get to learn from Dad, and that'll be pretty cool. We've always worked well together."

"You've worked for him before?"

"No, but it's been just us for most of my life. We're used to each other."

I snagged a bottle of water from the fridge before heading upstairs to get ready for bed. In my room, I realized Owen had been silent for a while.

"You're quiet. Everything okay up there?"

"I was thinking. It's really like you were meant to help me."

It felt that way to me, too—this was already more natural than I'd expected. After getting settled under the puffy comforter, I asked, "Will you sleep or always be awake?"

"I'm not sure. I don't suppose it matters, but I'll be quiet so you can rest. After work tomorrow, we have to practice."

"Yeah, the backyard should do for that. It's fenced in, so no one can see us, and there are plenty of trees for targets."

"That'll be good then."

A few minutes of silence passed, and I'd drifted off when Owen spoke, making me jump.

"Sorry about that."

"It's alright." I rubbed my eye. "What did you say?"

"You were right. Nolan's okay. I'm still glad I got stuck with you, though; I don't know if he could've handled this."

A grin spread across my face. "Aww, you like me."

"You'll do. Emily seems to think you're pretty great. How long have you two been going steady?"

"That was only our second date."

"Really? You're so into her; I figured it was more serious."

"Her parents wouldn't let her date until after we graduated, but we've been friends at school for a few years."

"Wow, strict parents."

"Yeah."

"Can't blame them for worrying. She's hot."

I scoffed. "She is, but she's also sweet, funny, and smart." A wide yawn interrupted my words. "I sat behind her in algebra, and she had these low-cut jeans. When she'd lean up to write, a little strip of skin would peek out under her shirt. God, I loved those pants."

The classroom filled my sleepy mind—Emily peering over her shoulder at me with a smile that made my heart race, then leaning forward and her perfect round—my eyes flew open as I abandoned that train of thought. "Baseball!"

Owen laughed. "Yeah, man, I figured. Talk to you tomorrow."

***

Dad and I stopped at a drive-thru and ate dinner in his truck on the way home from work. It was a busy day. Everything went smoothly, but we'd worked over twelve hours and didn't feel like cooking.

"You did great today." Dad squeezed my shoulder before sliding out of the driver's seat.

"Thanks." I grinned at the compliment as I collected the wrappers from our food and took them to the trash can beside the house. Then I went to the cooler in the bed of the truck to retrieve the rest of my Coke.

Dad called back, "I'm going in for a shower."

I waved in response, and Owen said, "We should practice unless you want to tell him you're throwing knives as a hobby. We need to switch too; we haven't practiced that all day."

"Workdays will make it harder, but Dad doesn't stay up late, so we'll work it all in." I walked over and sat on the wooden steps of the porch. "Let's trade, and then you can get started."

"Okay."

A short while later, Owen straightened.

"That's the fastest we've ever been! It couldn't have taken over ten seconds," I said from inside my head.

"That was good. Next time we should stay standing." He studied the bottle in my hand and what was left of my soda with the peanuts floating on the bottom.

"You know you want to try it."

He sighed before twisting the top and taking a drink. Screwing the cap on, he poked out my tongue. "Yep, I was right. That's gross."

I chuckled. "Well, don't waste any more of it then. Put it in the fridge for me."

"No problem. It's all yours," Owen murmured, so Dad wouldn't hear me talking to myself as he entered the house and strolled to the kitchen. After setting my drink in the refrigerator, he climbed the steps to my room, and retrieved his knives before going to the backyard.

Stepping outside, he looked past the two picnic tables close to the house to the back half of the yard that was packed full of pines and hardwoods. Fluffy layers of rust brown pine straw surrounded several islands of trees framed by rocks and bright green grass connected everything.

"This is like a park," Owen said.

"Yeah, Dad likes working in the yard."

Owen nodded and searched for an appropriate tree to use as a target.

"Don't worry about Dad seeing us; he might be surprised, but I don't think he'll care."

"Okay, that makes things easier." Owen picked a spot and, after measuring about ten feet away, he hurled the first knife.

"I thought of some questions while I was working."

"Go ahead. I can talk and throw."

"I forgot to ask this morning. Could you sleep?"

"I'm not sure if it was sleeping, but I relaxed, and the next thing I knew, your alarm was going off. It was nice."

"Sounds like sleep to me. That's good."

Owen made a sound of agreement as the last knife speared the trunk. Then he asked, "What else?"

"What do we do now? Wait for a mimic to walk by?"

"Once we're ready, we hunt. Mimics prefer to be out late to catch people alone after dark, but as long as it's not hurting anyone, we won't kill it. We'll follow it."

I contemplated that as he retrieved his weapons from the tree. "You think it'll lead us to more of them?"

"Maybe. Sometimes they live in groups, paired up to look like families."

"Then you'll have to fight a bunch at once? Can you do that by yourself?"

Owen made a derisive noise. "Not a problem, but that isn't the plan. I messed up last time, obviously." A knife shot from my hand like a bullet, with the other four following in close succession. Loud thumps and falling bark filled the next few minutes as he went through several more rounds of throwing.

When he seemed calmer, I asked, "So what are we doing if we're not killing them?"

"We'll watch them and wait until their leader shows up. She was the first."

"How can there be a first if no one knew where they came from?"

"We know there was an original, Catriona. Maybe she was born a mimic, or some kind of disease could've caused it. Either way, Lilla said if we killed Catriona, they'd all die. They're connected to her somehow."

"Lilla, the witch? How did she learn all of this?"

"Lilla was powerful, and she was fighting monsters before my family was even alive. That's how she and my grandma met and became friends; Lilla saved her life." He paused and focused on the ground. A cheerful smile filled my thoughts, but Owen shook my head, and the image disappeared. He didn't mention it and got back to practice.

When he threw again, I asked, "So, your grandma got your family into hunting?"

"Pretty much. She met Grandpa, and after she told him everything, he couldn't stand by and do nothing, same as you. Then came their kids, including my dad, and then he and Mom had my brothers and me and trained us.

"Lilla introduced us to the other hunting families she knew. For a while, it seemed as though the hunters had a chance. Now it's just me."

"And me."

"Yeah, and you." Owen threw again.

A while later, he stopped with the blades in the target. "Alright, your turn. Let's switch." He widened his stance; he planned to stay standing.

"Fine, but try not to fall and break anything."

"You got it." Owen closed my eyes to wait.

As we switched, there was a second when my knees became weak, but I caught myself and stayed on my feet. "That was awesome," I whisper-yelled with a fist pump.

"It's a good start. We'll focus on getting faster, but we're talking about a couple of seconds."

My eyebrows raised. Hearing Owen with a positive attitude was new. I grinned as I went to get the knives and practice. After a few rounds, it was clear that my aim had improved. There seemed to be muscle memory involved, and Owen's training helped me.

The backdoor squeaked open, and I bit my cheek at the sight of Dad's furrowed brow. "What are you doing out here?"

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"No. I was just gonna say goodnight. Then I couldn't find you." Dad glanced from the weapon I held to the four sticking out of the target. "Are you throwing those?" His surprise made Owen chuckle.

Focusing on the tree, I said, "Yeah, I saw a guy doing it on YouTube, and it seemed like it'd be fun to try."

Dad's eyes widened. "Well, it looks like you're pretty amazing at it! When did you start doing this?"

Owen's help had me further along than I should be in a few practices. I didn't want to lie to Dad, so I was vague. "A while ago."

"Do you mind if I watch?"

"Nope." My hands trembled now that I'd have an audience. I walked over to pull four knives from the wood instead of throwing again to buy myself a second to calm my nerves.

Standing next to Dad, I took a deep breath and launched them one after the other into the tree. They all stuck. Two landed at chest height.

"Those last two were perfect," Owen said, and I tried not to let my chest swell with satisfaction.

Dad gaped. "That was amazing! And you just started doing this? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's a little weird." I scratched the back of my neck and avoided his gaze.

"Weird? Bash, that's a talent!" Dad beamed.

"If he thinks that's amazing, we should switch so he can see me throw."

A slight shake of my head, and Owen laughed. "I'm kidding. It's bad enough you're as good as you are. We don't need him going around town telling people you're a prodigy."

Dad leaned forward with a grin. "Can I give it a go?"

"Sure." I collected the knives. After showing him how to hold and throw them, I stood back so he could try.

The first one bounced off the bark, and the second didn't even hit it. Dad cracked up. "So close." The third knife stuck low, and the last throws landed around waist height.

"Solid start, Dad! Do you want to go again?"

"Nah, I'll let you do what you were doing. That's fun, though." He gave me a side hug before walking to the house. "We leave at seven." He waved over his shoulder.

"I remember. Goodnight."

"He threw better than I expected," Owen said.

"Dad's great at everything. He played a few sports when he was younger."

"I'm surprised you don't, then."

"I never could get into team sports. I ran track through high school. Dad doesn't care what I do. He just wants me to be happy."

"You're lucky."

"I know."

We were quiet for a while as I practiced. When Owen was ready to quit for the night, I said, "I have some questions about your witch friend."

"I bet. I told you Lilla's a story."

"We've got time. Tell me."

***

I went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and Owen said, "Grandma was twenty when she met Lilla. She was walking home late from work one night when a man walked past her. She said the way he leered gave her a bad feeling that urged her to speed up. Only the park and a few houses separated her from home. She was so close she told herself there was no reason to panic.

"Then a different man stepped out of the woods surrounding the area. He was quick—he grabbed her and covered her mouth before she could scream. She tried to fight him off, but the first guy showed up and caught her legs, lifting her off her feet. They carried her through the empty park into the dark cover of trees.

"They held her down." Owen's voice broke with emotion, and he stopped talking.

My chest tightened, and my blood pressure spiked. Is that what happened to Mom? She would have been so afraid. I pushed her out of my mind. "You don't have to tell me everything. Leave out whatever you don't want to talk about."

"It's fine. I just haven't thought about this recently, and it's hard to picture her scared and helpless. By the time I was born, she was pretty badass. She told me this story regularly when I was little, but it's different being the one to tell it." Owen laughed. "It was her version of a bedtime story."

"No offense, but that's messed up." I snickered and resumed brushing my teeth.

"Not really. Grandma wanted us to understand that she was alive because someone was there to help. We grew up knowing about monsters, how to protect ourselves, how to fight back, but most people don't. Besides, saving a girl from a monster is the bottom line of lots of fairy tales."

I thought it over and huffed. "That's true. So then what happened?"

"Grandma was lucky. Either of them could have killed her without a problem. Instead, they argued over who would eat and who had to wait for the next one.

"She knew she was about to die, but while they debated who had more seniority, they suddenly froze like statues. Lilla stepped from the shadows and stabbed each of the mimics in the heart. They fell into piles of dust and clothes, a lot of it landing on Grandma.

"Immobile from shock, she lay there watching until Lilla helped her stand and dusted her off, asking if the men had hurt her. They hadn't. That night, Lilla explained mimics and how she was trying to stop them. She'd been following the second guy and used a spell to freeze them. When she told Grandma about hunters, she wanted to help.

"After that, she and Lilla stayed friends. Lilla came and went as other hunters needed her, but the two of them kept in touch. I don't remember meeting her until I was eighteen."

"Was she still alive when you..." My voice trailed off. I wasn't sure how to ask, and Owen hadn't offered any details about his death.

"They killed Lilla right in front of me, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. I was restrained and injured. She gave me a little nod as if saying it was alright. When they tore her chest open, her eyes were still on mine; I watched them dim. I know this sounds crazy, but before they got to her heart, there was this burst of light, and then she was dust."

"Like when a mimic dies?"

"No. When Lilla left, everything was gone, even her clothes. Her last screw you to those monsters, a spell, so when she died, at least she wouldn't feed them." Owen's voice carried a hint of pride. "It was kind of beautiful."

A bright flash and an explosion of dust that sparkled like a million tiny stars filled my mind.

"Wow. It's weird, but you're right; it's beautiful."

"What did you see?" Owen asked as the image went dark.

"Only dust and light."

"I'd rather not remember the rest." Owen's voice was barely a whisper.

"I understand. I bet she pissed the mimics off, though."

"She did. One of them let out a bone-chilling scream. It was in my memories that first morning in the basement."

I shuddered, remembering the inhuman shriek and the blood that covered Owen's chest and hands.

"It worked out well for me. They were so angry, all their talk about a slow death for the hunter stopped. Shortly after that, Lilla's spell drew my spirit to the house."

I didn't know what to say, so I left Owen to his thoughts. In my room, my phone blinked to alert me to a text.

Emily: How was work?

I smiled and texted her back.

Me: Good. How was your day?

Emily: Mom and I went shopping. They moved our plans up. We're leaving Saturday, and they won't let me stay. I made her buy me a bunch of stuff, so I guess I won't complain too much for now.

Her leaving should've been a relief. She'd be safer, but all I felt was disappointment.

Me: That's a bummer. Maybe you can call me while you're gone?

I held my breath and hit send.

Owen chuckled. "You two are adorable."

"Shut up." My aggravation made Owen laugh more.

Emily: Of course, I'll call. You're the reason I wanted to stay, but they insist on ruining my life. Could we do something on Friday?

"Awe, you got all tingly. That's so sweet." Owen still hadn't stopped laughing.

"Seriously, dude, shut up." I tried to sound mad but couldn't; I didn't care if Owen made fun of me. Emily wanted to skip her vacation to see me.

Me: I'll make sure I get off work in time for dinner. I can ask Lauren and Nolan, if you want.

Emily: Dinner's perfect! Just the two of us, though.

"Well, the three of us," Owen said, making me huff in frustration. "I'm joking; I'll check out for the whole date."

"Thanks, man."

Me: That sounds great. Pick you up at 8?

Emily: See you then!

📚💜📚