20

BLOOD AND SMOKE

A late winter storm covered Kincade in eight inches of wet, white fluff overnight. Kincade High closed for the day, and Cassandra sat on the couch in the den, flipping through channels. Any minute, a special report would break through about a building blown up and gone down in flames. People dead and bodies to bury. But at least it would be over, and the uneasy feeling in her guts would go away.

She craned her head, trying to keep the screen in view as her mom dusted it for the umpteenth time.

“Mom, seriously. You’ve got, like, a cleaning complex today. And you’re blocking the remote.”

Her mom turned around and blocked as much of the TV as possible.

“I remember when snow days meant you and Henry would put on snowsuits and go make angels and snowmen in the yard. Now they mean two teenage slugs underfoot, saying, What’s for lunch, and I’m bored, and When are we going to get a snowblower. Can’t you go make me an angel or something?”

“I outgrew my snowsuit when I was nine.”

“So use your dad’s Carhartts.”

“They smell like turpentine. Also, he’s in ’em.” Cassandra jerked her head toward the garage, where her dad continued work on the armoire. Now sanding, or maybe varnishing.

“Well,” her mom sighed. “Talk to me while I clean, then. How’s school?”

“Fine. They’re holding Ody back.”

“What? But he’s so smart.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t apply himself.”

“Or maybe he helps himself to extra days off with Athena, like you do,” her mom said. Cassandra flipped the channel fast. “I still think we should’ve grounded you for your little spa day.”

“You don’t know how to ground me,” said Cassandra. “I’ve been too good for too long. Henry, too.”

Her mother started off on a tirade about what was and wasn’t within her powers of punishment. It was easy, these days, to change the subject. To talk without really talking. She’d gotten good at it, so fast.

But it was better than the truth. The truth involved too many things no one would understand.

“I wish I could make you an angel,” Cassandra said quietly.

“What?”

“I wish I could do anything that would make me feel not so powerless.”

Her mom sighed and dropped the dust rag.

“You have a lot of strength in you, Cassie,” she said. “All the strength in the world.”

Cassandra flexed her fingers. “Yeah. All the strength in the world. But I still get dragged around like a”—she gestured broadly—“thing in a current.”

“What are you talking about, honey?”

Her mom blinked big, open eyes. How Cassandra wanted to tell her. She wished for that magical mom-telepathy to kick in. You’re my mother, don’t you know? Don’t you know just by looking at my face? But of course she didn’t. It wasn’t the kind of thing someone guessed.

On the TV, a special report broke in.

“Mom. The TV.”

“Oh.” Her mother reached down for the remote and turned up the volume. “What’s happened now?”

The cameras panned over blackened, smoking buildings, some still in flames.

“A fire claimed at least three dozen lives in the early hours of the morning,” said the news anchor. “At approximately seven oh five AM, firefighters responded to an emergency call in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania. They arrived to find the entire block engulfed in flames. It is unknown yet what caused the fire, and the names of the victims have not been released. Several houses were involved in the blaze. Most were fraternity houses.”

“Henry.” Cassandra pushed her hands into the hair at her temples. “Henry!”

His and Lux’s footsteps pounded down the stairs. “What, Cassie?”

Their mother shook her head. “All those kids. Asleep in their beds, probably.”

Asleep in their beds. Only if they were very, very lucky. Henry put his hand on Cassandra’s shoulder. The news would get a lot more interesting as the day went on. Investigators would wonder how a fire removed victims’ limbs. How it could bash in a skull or leave half a body in the kitchen and the other half in the dining room. They would wonder why none of the fraternity members had managed to make it out of the house, despite unlocked doors and ground-level windows. They would puzzle over a pile of bodies, neatly stacked eight deep, in an upstairs hall.

*   *   *

Athena met them at the door.